


Finding Her Place

by lenasmagic (dimensionhoppingrose)



Series: Finding Her Place 'verse [1]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergent, Family, Fluff, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot Series, Other, Self-Blame, post Friendship Hates Magic, self-hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2020-04-05 17:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 61,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19045090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimensionhoppingrose/pseuds/lenasmagic
Summary: "Dying is easy. Living is harder."Back from the shadow world, Lena works to figure out her place in a radically different life, where she has a family and friends who love her. And somehow, that's weirder than her lifebeforethe shadow world.(A series of loosely connected oneshots, post-Friendship Hates Magic)





	1. Doing Their Best

**Author's Note:**

> Lena is my fluffy, prickly little baby and I just want to hug her and protect her from the world.
> 
> Don't ask where the idea of Della and Lena bonding came from. There's just something there.... idk but it's fun.

“Sleepover!”

Webby had, apparently, gotten a head start on the pile of sugary sweets she had collected for this glorious night of normal childness. They had the room below the loft to themselves — the adults and ghosts of the house had agreed to leave them alone no matter how much screaming they heard.

“Is it really a sleepover if…” Huey took a minute to count. “Five out of six of us live here?”

“It’s the _spirit_ of it,” Webby protested.

“Don’t say spirit too loud. It might summon something.”

“And you _really_ don’t live in some secret lair under, say, an ampitheatre?” Louie asked, raising an eyebrow at Violet.

“I do not.”

“And you have parents who don’t literally live in your shadow?”

“I’m sitting right here,” Lena said, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands.

“I have a completely normal nuclear family,” Violet assured everyone.

“Nuclear like the bomb?”

“No, nuclear as in I have two parents and a little brother and I can call them if you really want.”

“Oooooooooooooookay!” Webby spoke up, laughing. “No more interrogating our new friend, she’s totally normal and nothing to worry about.”

“Should I go?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow.

“ _No_!” Webby launched herself at Lena, tackling her so hard she fell off her rolled up sleeping bag, and they landed on the ground in a tangle of limbs. “Nobody is going anywhere, it’s sleepover night!”

“Okay, okay,” Dewey said, moving to help Webby and Lena up. “No more talk about weird or supernatural or who has an aunt literally living in their shadow—”

“She’s not there _anymore_.”

“We’re just here to have a good night. Right?”

“Hey, no complaints from me,” Louie said, grabbing a piece of candy and popping it into his mouth. “So, what first?”

“Video game tournament!” Huey announced, running for the door. “To the rec room!”

“Last one to there has to brush their teeth twice!” Webby added as she ran after Huey. Violet and Louie followed, but Dewey stopped when he realized Lena wasn’t moving.

“You okay?

“Yeah, I’m great,” Lena muttered, standing. “I love being reminded that every bad thing that’s ever happened is my fault.”

“What?” Dewey frowned, bewildered. “That’s not true. You didn’t launch our mother into the moon.” Lena raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, yeah, we’re all a little paranoid, but that’s not your fault either. It’s just kind of the way things are around here.”

“Yeah, because _I_ brought magic into the house.”

“Technically Uncle Scrooge did,” Dewey pointed out. “Come on, nobody blames you for anything, and we’re all happy to have you back. And Webby deserves a normal sleepover, finally.”

“All right, all right.” Lena sighed, finally moving towards the door — although she stopped to ruffle Dewey’s feathers a bit. “Come on, dork.”

Dewey grinned as he followed, taking no offense. They’d all long since learned how to translate Lena’s odd way of showing affection.

The video game tournament was already in full swing when they got to the rec room. Violet, who had never touched a controller in her life, had opted to sit out while Huey, Webby, and Louie smashed away at the buttons.

“Nonononononono — oh come onLouie, that’s cheating!’

“This is war, there is no cheating!”

“Oh yeah? Fine. Webby, tagteam!”

“Okay!”

“Hey!”

Dewey flopped down on the couch next to Violet, while Lena sat on the arm of the couch, watching them. Everything always felt a little too bright and a little too loud after being trapped in the shadow realm for six months. She preferred to hide up in the loft and listen to music at a _very_ low volume. But Dewey was right — Webby deserved her normal sleepover. Especially since Lena had been the one to ruin all of them.

“Cookies!” A sing-song voice announced, and everyone looked back at the door to see Della with a tray of still-warm cookies.

“Moooooooooooom!” The triplets complained. “No adults allowed!”

“Oh come on, I’m a _mom_. I reserve the right to crash a sleepover with fresh-baked cookies.”

The boys and Webby exchanged hesitant looks while Lena just stared at the tray. “I’ll try one,” Violet offered, reaching a hand out; Dewey quickly grabbed her hand, shaking his head. Della sighed.

“ _Fine_. Mrs. Beakley made them and I tried to take credit.”

The mood immediately brightened, and everyone scrambled over the couch to get their hands on a cookie. “Yeesh, you make one bad cake,” Della grumbled, pouting. Her eyes wandered to Lena, who was still sitting on the edge of the couch. “Hey, I promise I didn’t make these. Really.”

“No, I believe you.” No one was exploding yet, after all. That had been _horrifying_ to witness from the viewpoint of a shadow. “I’m just not hungry.”

“Come on, Lena!” Webby said through a mouthful of crumbs, grabbing a cookie for the older duckling. “Granny makes the best cookies!”

“Um… save me one,” Lena said, jumping off the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

She tried to look natural as she hurried into the hallway. The video games, the laughing and yelling, Della’s sudden entrance, all of it was putting her on edge. Her heart was pounding, the edges of her vision blurring, and she was starting to hyperventilate. It wasn’t the first time this had happened since her… return, but usually she was close enough to the loft that she could just disappear into the corner she had claimed for herself and shake it off.

Her goal had been the bathroom, but she barely made it around a corner before her her knees gave out, and she collapsed against a wall, sliding to the floor and curling in tight on herself. Too bright, too loud, too much, it was too much, it was all _too much_ …

_Shadows aren’t meant to feel anything. You’re not real. You can’t handle this world. You’re weak. You can’t—_

“...breathe, sweetie, can you do that? Try and breathe with me.”

The voice was muffled in her ears, as if someone had filled them with cotton. But no, Lena had just pressed her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “Look at me,” the voice prompted gently. “You’re okay. Look at me.”

Lena’s breath caught as she opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was that the hall lights were out, and that immediately put at her ease. The second thing she saw was Della Duck kneeling in front of her, very patiently trying to talk Lena through breathing.

“Try and breathe with me, okay? Deep breath in…” She demonstrated for Lena. “And out again. Try to relax your shoulders. Deep breath, come on…”

There were a few stalled starts, but finally Lena managed to fill her aching lungs. Her chest was hurting, and she coughed, hiccuping.

“There you go, you’re all right,” Della said gently, brushing a thumb up under Lena’s eyes. She didn’t _feel_ all right — she was shaking, tears still burning in her eyes, heart still sputtering slightly. But the hall was quiet, other than Della’s murmurs, and it was dark. That helped. She pulled away slightly, dragging her arm across her eyes.

“I’m fine.” Her voice was trembling.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Della assured her. “I’m not, sometimes.” Lena looked up, surprised. “I was on the moon for like… ever. It is _really_ dark and really, _really_ quiet on the moon. Going from that to absolute chaos is overwhelming. Sometimes you just need a quiet, dark corner to sit in and take a break from it all.” She paused, looking the teen up and down. “Uncle Scrooge told me what happened to you. I’m sure you can relate.”

Lena nodded slowly. “There isn’t really any… color in the shadow realm. I could see things and hear things, but it was… different. I couldn’t tell the triplets apart by their voices or clothes colors. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t hear anything at all. I was attached to Webby, so I was more attuned to her, but… sometimes I felt like I was losing my connection with _her_ , too. Sometimes it felt like I disappeared for days. But there’s no way of telling how much time has passed when you… wake up, I guess?” She shook her head. “It was like watching everything through a window. I could see, and hear, but it wasn’t the same. Then someone broke the window and…”

Della brushed Lena’s hair back as she spoke. “Well if you ever need a break, I’ve got my room set up so there’s basically no light unless I turn on a lamp.” Della smiled. “And the door is always unlocked. Fifth one down this hall on the left. Wait.” She held up her hands for a moment, looking between them. “Yeah, left.”

Lena smiled wearily. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Us ducks who come back from the dead gotta stick together, right?”

It was almost funny when she put it like that. “Right.”

The boys had taken over the video game when Lena returned to the rec room. Webby was juggling a cookie between her hands, looking nervous; she perked up when Lena came back in. “Hey! Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Lena grabbed the cookie from Webby, taking a bite. “Oh yeah, no way Della made these.”

“Wait, so did you _see_ the cake thing?” Louie asked without looking away from the screen. Lena shuddered.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Ugh, can we not talk about that?” Dewey asked. “I still feel sick.”

“What happened?” Violet asked, looking between everyone. Dewey groaned.

“Fiiiiiiiiiine. So, Mom was trapped on the moon for like, our entire lives…”

* * *

“ _You thought you could be free of me so easily?”_

 _Lena gasped, whirling to see a long shadow hovering over her, red-eyed and grinning. “_ You _,” she hissed, backing up. Magica laughed, and shadows wound up Lena’s legs, tripping her. “Let me_ go _. I’m not your puppet anymore!”_

 

“ _Oh really?” The shadow raised a hand, and Lena was lifted off the ground. She wiggled uselessly, trying to escape the invisible grip._

“ _I’m not yours!”_

“ _Yeah, you are.” The voice, surprisingly, wasn’t Magica. Lena turned against her will, surprised to see Dewey standing in front of her, arms crossed. “We trusted you.”_

“ _We let you into our_ home _,” Louie’s voice added from the left, and Lena whirled to look at him._

“ _You tried to kill our uncle!” Huey, from behind her._

“ _N-No, I — Magica made me!” Lena curled her fingers in her hair gripping it tight. “I didn’t want to do this, I never wanted to do any of this, I—”_

“ _You lied to us.”_

_That small, sad voice broke Lena’s heart. She turned slowly to see Webby staring at her with wide, tear-filled eyes._

“ _Webby…”_

“ _You lied to me. I thought we were friends.”_

“ _We were. We are!” Lena shook her head furiously. “I didn’t want to hurt you , Webby, I never wanted to hurt any of you, I just… I…”_

“ _You cared more about your freedom than you did us. Than you did_ me _.”_

“ _No,” Lena whispered, holding a hand out. “I didn’t, Webby, I...I…”_

_But what could she say? It was all true. She had lied to them, she had tricked them, she had used them. She didn’t care what Magica did to them, or to the rest of the world. She just wanted to be free of the sorceress._

“ _Poooooooooooor Lena,” Magica said with a hum, lifting Lena into the air. “Alone again. Just like you when I made you. But don’t worry, dear. You’ll always have me.”_

“ _No,” Lena choked out, squeezing her eyes shut. “No, no, no no no nonononononono—”_

“ _No_!”

Lena shot up, wild-eyed and gasping. The sleeping bag wrapped around her body was too tight, and she struggled to fight it off, scrambling away. They were in the library under Webby’s loft, the moonlight shining through the window and casting odd shadows. She thought she heard Webby call her name, but the sound was lost to the sudden rushing in her ears when she saw the elongated shadow on the wall to her right.

She screamed.

And then, amidst a chorus of voices shouting her name, she fell.

“What in the blazes is going on out here?!” Scrooge demanded as he hobbled out of his room. It was after midnight, and he’d _thought_ all the children would be asleep. “Honestly, it’s—”

He was cut off when a vase was hurled at him, and he barely ducked to avoid it. It looked as if a hurricane had kicked to life in the hallway — things were flying this way and that, portraits rattling on the wall, glass breaking…

And in the middle of it all was a shining ball of blue.

“What’s happening?” Mrs. Beakley called as she ducked a flying table and pulled Scrooge out of the way of another piece of debris. Della poked her head out of her room, wide-eyed, then jerked back in to avoid a flying plant.

“What the—?”

“Lena!” They heard Webby shout through the chaos. The kids had come running downstairs; the pink-haired teen was noticeably absent from their numbers.

“Webby, what happened?” Beakley yelled as she tried to focus on the glowing figure in the eye of the storm. It _was_ Lena-shaped…

“Sh-She had a nightmare, I think?” Webby sounded hopelessly confused. “I don’t know, she was screaming, and then she kind of turned all shadowy and just fell through the floor.”

The group ducked as a door was ripped off its hinges and thrown at them. “Is _Lena_ doing this?” Violet asked, bewildered. Della stepped back into the hall, looking a little odd in her nightgown with her goggles down over her eyes.

“Della, what on earth are you doing?” Scrooge demanded, exasperated.

“Shut up and let me handle this,” Della snapped back, bracing herself before diving into the chaos. She dodged and rolled, and was only almost hit once by another potted plant (Scrooge really needed to redecorate. And take everything out of the hallway).

The glowing blue ball was trembling as Della approached, and she could hear quiet sobs.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Della knelt down next to Lena, sliding her goggles up her head. Lena was curled up tight, her hands pressed to her ears, eyes clenched shut. “It’s okay, you’re okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Everything is my fault!” A spear from a suit of armor pierced the wall behind Della, and she quickly lowered herself before anything else could take a shot at her head.

“No, it isn’t!” Della grabbed Lena’s shoulder, shuddering at the shock of magic that ran through her. “You didn’t ask for this, Lena. You didn’t ask for _any_ of this! Magica created you, and she used you, and you deserve so much better than what you were given. You deserve to have a normal life, with friends and people who love you. You’ve been hurt, and it isn’t fair that you’re taking the blame for it. _Magica_ did this, not you. Don’t let her off the hook that easily. Don’t take the blame she deserves. You never asked for _any_ of this! And I _know_ you tried to fix it! It’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault.”

The flying debris began to slow, knick-knacks and other useless items fell to the ground, and the glow around Lena slowly faded. “There you go,” Della murmured, brushing a hand through Lena’s hair. “There you go, you’re okay. See? You’re all right. Come here.”

She gently scooped Lena’s trembling figure into her arms, hugging her tight. “I just wanted to get away from her,” Lena choked out, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “I just wanted to be free.”

“I know,” Della murmured, tightening her grip. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

Webby hesitated before hurrying forward, only to stop a couple steps away from the duo. Della looked up from Lena and nodded, and Webby gently wrapped her arms around her best friend, resting her chin on Lena’s shoulder.

“I don’t blame you, Lena,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. “You saved us. That told me everything I needed to know about you.”

Mrs. Beakley carefully picked through mess, approaching the triplets and Violet. “Are you all okay?” she asked briskly. They nodded wordlessly. “Back to bed, then, it’s late. Come on.”

“Wait, what about—”

“Shush, shush.” The maid shuffled the kids off, leaving Della, Lena, and Webby in the middle of the hall, with Scrooge watching on, his heart breaking for the sobbing teenager.

“ _Help me get my family back, and you'll have a place in it._ ”

He had done his best to make Lena feel welcome and at home — to deliver on the promise he had made before Magica had returned the girl to the Shadow Realm. She had helped save them, after all. And he knew Webby had been trying just as hard to help Lena. All of them had. But they had missed her suffering.

Again.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Webby asked after a long moment of silence, punctured only by Lena’s sobs. Lena shivered, trying to scrub her stinging eyes.

“What is there to say? Hey, I know I almost got you all killed and doomed the world because I’m selfish, but I feel really bad about it and my feelings are the important thing here?”

“Well, yeah,” Webby said slowly. “We’re not mad at you. We don’t blame you. But you blame yourself, and that’s important.”

“ _Webby_ …” There was a note of exhausted exacerbation in Lena’s tone.

“It’s true, you beautiful idiot!” Webby grabbed Lena’s cheeks, turning her head so they were face to face. “You sacrificed yourself to save me and Dewey! You didn’t _have_ to come back or try to fight her, but you did it anyways! You saved me, and you saved Dewey, _and_ what you did helped us save Uncle Scrooge! You’re like, the bravest person I know!”

“Aye now,” Scrooge grumbled, mostly jokingly. Lena’s eyes slowly lifted from the floor, meeting Webby’s gaze.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Her voice trembled. Webby shook her head.

“Because you’re my best friend, and that’s how this works. That’s how _family_ works. And you’re part of that now.”

Lena dragged her arm across her eyes before seeming to crumple in on herself, half collapsing on Webby and hugging her tight. “You know, for someone who’s not a hug person, you sure give a lot of hugs,” Webby teased even as she returned the hug with all her strength.

“Don’t tell anyone.”

“I would never.”

Scrooge rested a hand on Della’s shoulder and she looked up, giving him a small smile. “Everything okay down here?” Mrs. Beakley asked as she rounded the corner.

“Yeah.” Lena scrubbed her eyes again, standing up. “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Ah, think nothing of it,” Scrooge said. “We all have our nightmares.”

Lena sighed, looking down at her hand. Blue energy swirled around her fingers for a moment, then abruptly dissipated as she collapsed back to her knees, groaning. “Lena?!” Webby grabbed her shoulders, wide-eyed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine…”

“Bed,” Mrs. Beakley said firmly, walking over and stooping down to gather Lena in her arms.

“Hey! What’re you—” Lena immediately fell silent when she saw the look the older duck gave her. She sullenly allowed Mrs. Beakley to carry her back to the library, Webby trailing behind.

Della and Scrooge silently retreated to his office. Mrs. Beakley joined them a few minutes later. “Is she okay?” Della asked.

“She was okay enough to argue about being put in an actual bed, so I’m sure she’ll make a full recovery.” Mrs. Beakley sat, frowning. “This is a new development, though.”

“Aye,” Scrooge said, sighing. “I thought her magic came from Magica. Either she has her own powers she’s not aware of, or she’s still connected to the witch in some way.”

“But that doesn’t matter, right?” Della prompted. “I mean, it’s not like you’re going to throw her out. Right?”

“Of course not,” Scrooge said. “I wouldn’t put a child out on the streets. But it’s something to be concerned about. Especially if she’s still connected to Magica.”

“She was created by Magica from a shadow,” Mrs. Beakley said. “But Magica’s powers are gone, and Lena appears to still have hers…”

“It doesn’t matter,” Della argued. “She’s a kid.”

“And no one is proposing we throw her out.” Scrooge raised an eyebrow. “What’s your sudden interest?”

“Nothing, I just…” Della sighed. “She didn’t have a choice in any of this, but she still hates herself so much. She doesn’t deserve that. I ran off and did something terrible that had a lasting effect on the lives of everyone I love — I deserve the hate a lot more than she does.”

Scrooge sighed. “No one deserves to be hated. You made a bad choice. Lena was given a bad hand in life. You’re both doing the best you can. And no one is being kicked out of the house.”

Della nodded slowly, crossing her arms. “Okay.” She slid down in her seat, staring at the wall for a long moment. “If Magica ever shows her face, again, I’m going to punch her.”

“You may have to get in line,” Scrooge said, looking out at the moon. “She really did a number on that girl.”

“Imagine fifteen years with _that_ as your only company,” Mrs. Beakley said grimly. “No wonder she’s always miserable.”

“She’s rather good at hiding it, though,” Scrooge said. “And I don’t think there’s a therapist who specializes in being controlled by a witch for fifteen years then trapped in the shadow world for months.”

“With your money, I’m sure you could find one willing to try,” Della pointed out. Scrooge chuckled.

“Perhaps.”

Della went upstairs to look in on the kids before returning to bed. The triplets and Violet were in their sleeping bags, already asleep. Webby and Lena were lying on top of their sleeping bags, Lena curled slightly into Webby, their fingers intertwined. Della smiled softly when she saw the look of utter peace on Lena’s face.

They were all doing the best they could.


	2. Home Again (For The First Time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody ever said coming back was going to be *easy*.   
> (TW: for mention of child abuse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uuuuuuuuuuh y'all kind of blew me away with your response to the first chapter! <3 I'm glad other people can see Della and Lena bonding, they're just like.... Lena needs a mom and Della needs a kid who's never had a parental figure XD There's definitely more of the two of them later on.
> 
> Also just a quick note about this: For the most part, these are just out-order oneshots that I write on as ideas come to me. So the last one was probably... a few weeks after Lena came back from the Shadow Realm? Somewhere around there. This is the immediate aftermath of her return. The next one might be the Christmas story I wrote because that was too damn cute. I dunno, I'm up to like six right now and I don't want to do too much of one thing (too much angst, or too much Della and Lena, or too much focus on magic, etc.), so the order is up for debate. 
> 
> Each chapter *can* be a standalone, but they also do have a loose storyline. If *any* of that makes sense, you are well-versed in Sam-ese, and I applaud you. Basically if you have questions about story order, ask XD I acknowledge my way of doing things is weird (for example why don't I just post each one-shot individually in a series or why don't I just post them in order), but it's how I survive.

Lena de Spell had never really felt _shame_. Life was short, after all. She’d always known she had an expiration date. Who had time for shame when their life was so short?

And yet she felt exceedingly self-conscious as the boys, Scrooge, Launchpad, and Beakley all stared at her, mouths hanging open.

Huey was the one to finally break the silence. “Okay. So. Couple questions.” He took a deep breath. “Have you just been attached to Webby this entire time? Did you see _everything_ she saw? What’s the shadow world like? Do you _age_? Does our world look different when you’re in the shadow world? Can you go _back_ to the shadow world? What about Magica, are you still connected to her? Can you find her? Or are you connected to Webby now? What about—”

Webby clapped her fingers down on Huey’s bill, effectively silencing him. “Give her a break, Huey, she’s been back for like six hours.”

Huey made some indiscernible noises. “I’m with Huey on the Magica question,” Louie spoke up, hands shoved in his pockets. “ _Are_ you still connected to her?”

“I… I um…” Lena stuttered, grasping her left elbow with her right hand.

“Oi.” Louie yelped as Scrooge lightly knocked his cane against the young duckling’s leg. “You can’t blame someone for who they’re related to. No one holds Donald against you.”

“Or you against us,” Dewey piped up. Louie glowered at his brother.

“I’m just _saying_ —”

“Look, I get it.” Lena cut him off, taking an uncomfortable step back. “Fool me once and all that. I don’t expect anyone to trust me. Don’t worry, I won’t hang around.”

Webby looked back at her, heartbroken. “Lena…”

Huey made another noise, and Webby finally let him go. “I get that it’s kind of a thing,” he said, looking back at Louie. “But she _did_ save Webby and Dewey. She helped when it counted.”

“Not to mention staying with Webigail since the shadow war,” Violet spoke up.

“Also true. Can you imagine having to try and protect Webby twenty-four/seven?”

“Regardless,” Scrooge said loudly, speaking over everyone. “At the end of the day this is my house, and my opinion is the one that counts.”

Lena’s heart sank right to her toes. Of course _Scrooge_ didn’t want her around. Why would he? She was basically his arch nemesis — or part of her, at least…

“And _I_ don’t go back on my promises.”

Lena wasn’t the only one to give him a bewildered look; even Mrs. Beakley was startled by that declaration. Scrooge turned to Lena, giving her a soft smile.

“I promised you a place in this family if you helped save it. I think you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

Webby’s eyes lit up, a slow grin forming as she looked back at Lena. Poor, bewildered Lena, who had been back in the regular world for less than twelve hours and fully expected the rest of the McDuck Manor to hate her. Lena who had never expected to find herself back here at all, in this world, able to interact with people.

“Y-You don’t mean like… live here?”

“Why not? I seem to have a habit of collecting kids.” He chuckled. “Unless you’ve got somewhere else to be.”

Lena grimaced, thinking of her sad little room under the amphitheatre. She caught Webby and the triplets exchanging uncomfortable looks, and just _knew_ they had found it.

 _Well, that’s humiliating_.

“Why don’t you sleep on it?” Beakley, of course, was the voice of reason. “It seems a lot has happened in the last few hours. You all need a chance to rest.”

“Sleepover!” ebby said happily, grabbing Lena’s hand. “Violet, you stay too!”

“I should get home, actually.” Violet cast a look out the window. The sun was slowly creeping up the horizon, bringing in another day. “My parents are expecting me home early.”

“Your… what?” Huey asked, staring. “You have parents? Wait, are you _normal_?”

The question was understandably confusing to Violet. “Normal as opposed to…?”

“As opposed to the homeless teenage shadow who had an evil sorceress attached to her for fifteen years,” Lena said dryly.

“Oh. No, I’m not homeless.” Of course she would pick out the most _normal_ part of that sentence. Webby sighed dramatically, going to hug Violet.

“Fiiiiiiiiiiine. But we need to do a sleepover some other time. A _real_ sleepover, where nothing weird happens.”

“Setting a high bar there, Pink.”

Webby grinned, biting her tongue to keep from giggling. _Lena was back_.

Webby walked Violet to the door, making sure she _really couldn’t stay_ before finally letting her go, then immediately ran back Lena, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tight. “This is so _exciting_!” she squealed, dragging Lena off to the stairs.

“Remember, Webby, you’re supposed to be sleeping,” Beakley called after them.

“I know Granny — oops!” Webby pulled off a weird side-step as she nearly ran into Della on the stairs. Lena yelped, stumbling. “Sorry, Della!” the younger duck called over her shoulder as she pulled her friend up the stairs. Della whirled on her heel, looking up the stairs.

“It’s okay, Webby — who’s that?” But the girls had already disappeared.

“It is a _very_ long story,” Scrooge said with a sigh. “Do you remember the stories I told you about Magica de Spell?”

“The crazy witch you trapped in a dime? Yeah, I thought that was something you made up to impress us.”

“When have I ever needed to _make up_ a story?” Scrooge sounded insulted. “C’mon, let’s get some breakfast and I’ll fill you in…”

* * *

It had taken nearly an hour for Webby to wind down enough to sleep. She insisted on sleeping on the floor with Lena, and really, it was a miracle she hadn’t just invited herself into Lena’s sleeping bag.

She was finally asleep, though, and somehow _still_ smiling. Lena looked at her for a moment, giving her a small smile before returning her attention to the ceiling.

 _I’m back_.

Rays of sunlight lit up the loft, dust motes swimming lazily in the beams. Lena reached up as if to touch the dust, almost flinching away when the tips of her fingers were illuminated. She wasn’t a shadow anymore. She had a real hand. A real body. She slowly sat up, slipping out of her sleeping bag and looking down at herself. After months of being incorporeal, she felt like a _real_ body was too heavy. Like it was weighing her down.

Webby shifted in her sleep, sighing contently, and Lena’s eyes flickered to her, then back to her own hands.

 _You don’t belong here_.

Magica’s insidious voice wasn’t there to spread doubt in Lena’s mind anymore, but Lena didn’t need that — she had a voice all her own to insult her.

Lena grabbed her sweatshirt and shoes in one swift move, throwing her shirt over her head as she jumped down from the loft, hurrying to the door. This wasn’t her place. This wasn’t her home. She didn’t deserve any of this. Louie was right not to trust her. She _didn’t_ know if she was still connected to Magica. What if the witch tried to use her to get into the mansion again? What if someone got hurt because of her?

She went over her options as she hurried through the halls and down the stairs, hopping along to get her shoes on as she went. She couldn’t go back to the ampitheatre, they knew about it. Maybe she could leave Duckburg. She didn’t have any money, but when had that ever stopped her? Sneak onto a bus, tell a kind-looking adult (maybe one with a younger kid) she was traveling alone and she was scared, no one would question her. It was basically how she had _gotten_ here after all…

“Going somewhere?”

Lena froze with her hand on the door knob as the distinctly English-accented voice spoke up behind her. She grimaced as she turned to face Mrs. Beakley.

“I, um…” She wasn’t necessarily _afraid_ of Webby’s grandmother. But she’d quickly figured out that it was Beakley who really called the shots around the mansion, and that it was best to at least stay on her neutral side, lest the former spy try to throw her out again. “I was… just…”

Beakley waited expectantly, and Lena finally gave up, sighing. “Nowhere in particular.”

“Good, then you won’t mind stopping for some breakfast first. Come along.”

It wasn’t like Lena could really say _no_. “I suppose I can stop for a good ol’ spot of tea,” she said in a poor imitation of an English accent as she followed. Beakley looked over her shoulder, examining Lena.

“And here I was starting to think you’d gone soft.”

Lena didn’t have a response to that. She sat silently at the ridiculously long table (seriously, Scrooge had lived _alone_ before, did he really need a table like this?), not daring to even entertain the idea of running before Beakley came back. Even she knew she didn’t stand a chance against a former spy.

Mrs. Beakley returned with a plate of pancakes and, of course, a cup of tea. She had a second cup that she took with her as she walked around the table, sitting across from Lena and sipping quietly. Lena looked at her, then down at the plate. “What, no biscuits and gravy?”

“That would’ve taken too long considering you were ready to take off,” Beakley said calmly, stirring her tea. Lena sighed, cutting into the pancakes.

“So, superspy powers know when the delinquent is up and about?”

“Intuition, actually. Although you took longer than I thought you would.” Lena looked up, silently taking a bite of her pancake. “Were you just going to leave, then? Without saying goodbye?”

“I figured you’d be happy,” Lena mumbled, poking the pancakes with the fork. “Not like you’ve ever been my biggest fan.”

“I wouldn’t see a child out on the streets,” Beakley informed her. “And I suppose you can’t be blamed for a poor upbringing when you never really had one.”

The tension drained from Lena’s shoulders, and she closed her eyes for a moment. _I should apologize_. The thought startled her. She didn’t even know where to begin with that.

“When we were in the tunnel…” Lena’s eyes snapped open again, her head jerking up to look at Beakley, who stirring her tea absently. “When the lights came on, you had this moment where you looked… scared. You looked right through me.”

Oh, Lena remembered that night perfectly well. “Yeah, Magica was there. She was too weak to do anything at that point, but seeing her pop up like that was always a little… terrifying.”

She looked around to check her shadow, as if she really needed to be sure Magica wasn’t there _now_. “I thought you were scared of me,” Beakley continued, drawing her Lena’s attention back to her. “When you’ve been around as long as I have, you learn a few things about people and reading their body language. And you… you looked like you were waiting for me to hurt you.”

Lena dropped her eyes back to her plate. “Don’t worry Colonel Crumpet, I didn’t think you were going to hit me.”

Beakley hummed, raising an eyebrow. “But you were scared. You reacted like an abused child.”

“Magica was a shadow,” Lena pointed out, stabbing another bite of pancake. “She couldn’t really _hit_ me.”

“There’s more than one type of abuse, Lena.” The teen didn’t have an answer to that. She stuck her forkful of pancake in her mouth instead. “I should have realized sooner there was something going on.”

Lena chewed for longer than she really needed to, giving herself some time to figure out what she wanted to say. “Magica was obsessed with that stupid eclipse,” she finally started slowly. “I had the date for that drilled into my head before I had a _name_. Over, and over, and over, every single day for fifteen years. When you can count the number of weeks you have left to live on one hand, you kind of… stop caring about consequences. Break into a criminal party? Sure, why not. Go down into the abandoned subway tunnels to chase a kid’s fairy tales? Sounds like fun. Get on the bad side of the ex super-spy twice your height? It’s not like she can do any worse than what Magica had planned. I knew she was never going to let me go. I didn’t think there was any way for me to exist without her. At best, I’d just be her slave for the rest of time.”

She was talking around the apology, but Beakley nodded. “I understand.” She took a sip of her tea. “It’s hard to care when you think you don’t have a future.”

Lena’s shoulders fell further. “I didn’t think I’d have to worry about life passed the eclipse. Then I figured well hey, I can just live in Webby’s shadow, that’s fine, that doesn’t require any thinking, just follow her around and be happy I didn’t have to actually physically be part of those adventures because honestly, they’re insane, your family is insane. But now I’m _here_ , and I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, I can promise you won’t find answers if you run off. There’s nothing out there for you by yourself. Here you can at least have friends. Perhaps even a family.”

There was a lot to unpack in those four words. _A family_. “For now, I suggest you take my original advice and sleep on it after you eat. Making a life-changing decision right after a traumatizing experience isn’t recommended.”

Lena snorted, returning to her pancakes. “Yeah, I guess.” She fell silent for a moment, staring at her plate as she ate. “Thanks, Tea Time,” she finally said, and Beakley smiled faintly.

“And I’ll have that sweater off of you before you go back to bed. I’m sure it could do with a washing.”

Webby was still sleeping when Lena returned. She smiled, dropping onto her sleeping bag and wrapping her arms around her pillow and squeezing her eyes shut.

She was still sleeping when Webby woke up. It took the younger duckling a moment to realize she was _seeing Lena_ , and she beamed. Her friend was back!

Then she noticed Lena’s wrist. When she had lost her bracelet, there was really no way of knowing. But Webby did know one thing.

There’d be a replacement waiting when Lena woke up.


	3. Family Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The McMixed family faces their worst challenge yet - mini golf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a random piece of family fluff. Idk where it came from, but it's fluffy af.
> 
> NOTE: I have no clue how they're getting Donald back, so he's just getting thrown in at random points when I think it's been long enough.

“Mini golf!”

It was amazing how two words could doom a family. Della lit up, Donald groaned, Scrooge frowned, Webby jumped up and down, Louie rolled his eyes, Dewey perked up, and Lena asked the question she would forever regret:

“What’s mini golf?”

“A waste of time and dignity,” Scrooge grumbled.

“It’s like golf — wait, you don’t know what golf is either, do you?” Huey frowned, thinking, then snapped his fingers. “Dewey, a hand?”

“Right.” Dewey grabbed Scrooge’s cane while Huey set up a complicated maze of cups and plates on the table.

“Excuse me—”

“So you have a ball, and you have to hit through an obstacle course and into a hole in a certain number of hits.”

Dewey demonstrated while Huey spoke, using Scrooge’s cane as a club. He hit a pretend ball then bounced around the maze they’d set up, stopping at the end, spinning, and jumped down. Lena raised an eyebrow.

“And… this is fun?”

“Yes!” Huey, Webby, Dewey, and Della yelled at the same time.

“No,” Scrooge, Donald, and Louie said.

“Yeah, well majority rules,” Huey said. “So we’re mini golfing.”

“Hang on,” Scrooge said, looking over his shoulder. “Beakley?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to side with naysayers on this one.”

“And now we’re tied.”

“Wait!” Webby yelled, looking at Lena.

“What?”

“You get a vote, too. You’re the tie-breaker.”

“Yes!” Louie grinned. Lena was a total cynic. She would side with them for sure. No mini golf.

“So, we’re talking about going somewhere in public, hitting small balls through a maze, and trying to get them in a hole? Yeah, I gotta say that sounds…” Webby stared at her intently, eyes wide, smile expectant, “I mean, Webby, you have to admit it, it’s a little…” Eyes wider, bouncing a little. Lena sighed. “I can’t say no to you.”

A series of cheers went up. “Nooooooooooooooooo,” Louie groaned, dropping his head on the table. “Lena, come on!”

“I’m sorry, look at her, how do you say no to that face?”

“Easy! I say it all the time!”

“Too late, can’t change her vote!” Huey grinned, jumping off the table. “Mini golf!”

Scrooge, Donald, and Beakley sighed. “Well then,” the maid said, backing toward the kitchen, “you all have fun on your outing-”

“Granny you have to come, too!” Webby insisted before she could escape. And unfortunately, Lena wasn’t the only one who was weak to the duckling.

“Oh, all right…”

Louie glowered at Lena as they started out. “You’ve gone soft.”

“Tell me about it.”

* * *

The mini golf course was every horrific thing Lena could have imagined, and thensome. “This is an insult to golf,” Scrooge grumbled, glaring at the course before them. “My ancestors are rolling over in their graves.”

“At least you’re not with them.”

“Part of me wishes I was.”

“Guys, come on, you have to figure out your club sizes!”

Donald was grumbling as Della kept “accidentally” hitting Donald in the leg with her club. “Stop it, Della. Stop it, Della. Stop it, Della.”

“Okay, so there are nine of us,” Huey said as he got the cards. “We should probably split up into groups. Make sure we’re not holding up a hole for too long.”

“And keep the more competitive people away from each other,” Beakley added. Huey scribbled notes for a minute, trying to work things out.

“Okay, Uncle Scrooge, Webby, Lena, me, and Uncle Donald on one team. Dewey, Louie, Beakley, and Mom on the other. Sound good to everyone?”

Grumbles and enthusiastic noises went through the group. “Awesome. Smaller team goes first. Dewford, if you would be so kind.”

“Aw yeah.” Dewey grinned as he strutted up to the first hole setting his blue ball down.

“Oh, we got colors for everyone,” Webby said, handing out the colorful golf balls. Huey and Louie were red and green respectively, of course, Donald had a lighter blue, Della had yellow, Beakley had light purple, Scrooge had black, Webby had pink, and finally Lena had violet. While she had been doing that, Dewey had hit his ball into the water.

“It’s going to be a long night.”

Scrooge refused to get Dewey another ball by the third hole, when he lost his sixth one in the water, forcing him to go fish it out while Louie unenthusiastically took his turn.

“Sooooo this is what passes for fun when you try to be normal?” Lena asked, resting her arm on Webby’s arm and leaning a bit.

“Come on, this is great!” Webby swung her her arms, nearly taking Lena out with her club. Dewey finally climbed out of the water, shaking his head, and went to try again.

“And we’re sure this isn’t going to, I dunno, turn into some magical death game with impossible rules and courses that defy the laws of physics?”

“Nah, we’ve already done that.”

“Ooooof course you have.”

The fifth hole was a windmill nobody could manage to get through. “Is it too late to go back to the Shadow Realm?” Lena, asked, her club over her shoulder as she watched Webby try again.

“Aye. I’m afraid you’re stuck here, lass.”

“Shame.”

Webby’s ball bounced back again, and she huffed, preparing to try again. Lena watched the ball as Webby hit it, tracking it as it went across the green…

And with a small wave of her fingers behind her back, the windmill stopped for just a split second. “All right!” Webby cheered, jumping up and down. Scrooge shot a suspicious look Lena’s way, and she shrugged.

“Do _you_ want to be here all night?”

By the twelfth hole, Huey had given up keeping score. Between Dewey smacking his ball into the water, Lena subtly helping Webby like she thought no one noticed the slight blue glow or the way Webby’s ball suddenly curved left, Louie’s absolute disinterest in playing, the four screaming fits Donald had, and various other factors, there was no way to keep up. They had all easily gone over thirty strokes at this point.

“You could’ve said no,” Louie reminded Lena, grumbling. She looked at Webby, who was getting ready to hit her ball through the legs of a dinosaur.

“Could I?”

“Softy.”

“Shut up.”

“Aw come on, don’t say you guys aren’t having fun!” Dewey said with a grin, ready to put his arms around both of them; he was still soaking wet.

“If you touch me, you’re going back in the water.”

Lena was surprisingly lucky on the fifteenth hole — a hole in one. No one believed she hadn’t used magic. “Come on, if I was going to use magic it’d be to help Webby or throw Dewey’s ball in the water.”

“What even _is_ the penalty for using magic?” Webby wondered, tilting her head.

“Who knows. Huey, your turn.”

By the eighteenth hole, even the enthusiastic players were ready to call it quits. They didn’t bother trying to play it; they just went to the hole and dropped their balls, letting a tube take it back to the cashier.

“Well _I_ had a good time,” Della declared, grinning.

“Same,” Huey and Dewey piped up.

“Same!” Webby laughed as she jumped on Lena’s back.

“Wha?! Jeez, Pink, who gave you sugar?”

“I’m just happy we managed to get through one night without some kind of disaster,” Louie said, looking around. “No monsters, no weird treasure, no murderous horses…”

“Okay, someone _really_ has to tell me that story.”

“I wanna hear it, too!” Della added. Huey cleared his throat to begin speaking.

“So, Uncle Scrooge was playing his yearly match with Glomgold…”

* * *

It was well after midnight by the time everyone finally got settled into bed. Webby fell asleep almost immediately, while Lena stared up at the bed above her, arms crossed under her head. She waited until she was sure everyone was asleep and slid out of bed, down the loft stairs. She didn’t really have a destination in mind, and finally decided to go to the kitchen to get a drink.

And of course, someone was in there. “Up a little late, aren’t you Tea Time?” Lena asked in her usual, flippant tone as she crossed the room and peeked into the fridge, grabbing a can of soda.

“Family outings leave little time for getting chores done.” Beakley shook her head as she placed dishes in the dishwasher. “And I think I should be saying that to you.”

Lena shrugged, leaning against the fridge and cracking her soda open. “I don’t sleep,” she finally said, and Beakley straightened up, surprised. “I mean, I _do_ sleep, obviously, god knows I have enough nightmares, but it’s not like… constant. I can three or four days without sleeping at all.”

“And you don’t feel even a bit tired? Ever?”

“Sometimes I do toward the end of the fourth day. But it’s not normal tired, like someone _should_ be after being away for four days straight. And even when I do sleep, I just have nightmares.”

“Have you told anyone about your sleep problems?”

“No.” She shrugged again. “Didn’t really see the point. I didn’t sleep much _before_ the Shadow Realm, either, unless Webby was giving a lecture about Scrooge. I guess shadows don’t really need to sleep. Or eat.”

Beakley _had_ noticed the teen lacked an appetite most kids around her age should have. It worried her; she’d been keeping an eye on the situation, although Lena didn’t seem to be starving. It was easier to see her slim frame without her sweater, though.

She wanted to push the subject, but she had long ago learned when pressuring Lena would do any good, and when it would just shut her down. So she changed the subject. “It was very kind of you to vote with Webby tonight. I’m sure mini golf isn’t particularly thrilling to you.”

“I dunno, seeing how many times Dewey could hit his ball into the water was funny.” Lena chuckled, sipping her drink. “It wasn’t that bad. I’ve had _worse_ family outings with Magica. Being possessed is way worse than mini golf.”

“I suppose if that’s your scale for comparison…” Beakley smiled gently. “I can promise any outing you have with this family will be _far_ better than being possessed.”

“Can you?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow. “I saw some of those adventures while I was in Webby’s shadow. You guys can’t even have a _game_ night without something going terribly wrong. Also, for the record, being a _very small shadow_ is disorienting.”

“I can’t imagine,” Beakley said dryly. “Still, my point stands. I know I’ve had my opinions about you in the past… but I also know you’d do anything for Webby. And I appreciate that.”

Lena busied herself with her soda so Beakley didn’t notice her blushing. God, she really _had_ gone soft.

“It’s not a big deal,” she finally said, looking anywhere but at Beakley. “I just voted to go mini golfing.”

And they had hit the limit of what Lena could handle in terms of genuine emotion. Beakley let it drop. “Well, as long as you’re here, you might as well help me clean up. Perhaps I can get to bed before sunrise.”

Lena set her soda aside and pushed herself. “Sure thing, Colonel Crumpet.”


	4. Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena’s nightmares are awful, but at least the horrors are confined to her dreams. ...Mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to deviate between fluff and sad because I don't want to go too much one way or the other, but damn it I have way more tragic ideas than I do happy ones....

The rest of the manor residents had… more or less gotten used to Lena’s screams echoing through the halls. For the most part they could even ignore them, knowing Webby could take care of her, and that Lena didn’t like anyone else seeing her vulnerable. She was just as happy if they all ignored her and asked no questions.

They couldn’t ignore a long, drawn out, shriek, however. Not when it sounded like she was being murdered.

“We can’t _all_ check on them,” Della said, looking around at the group that had gathered outside the library. Scrooge, Donald, Beakley, and the boys had all come running. Lena was no longer screaming, but somehow, that didn’t make anyone feel better.

“I’ll go,” Beakley said in a voice no one could argue with. She made her way into the library and carefully climbed the ladder. It was pitch black in the room, courtesy of the blackout curtains so Lena didn’t have to worry about waking up to see her shadow. Her ears made up for what her eyes couldn’t see — one young duckling whispering comforts while the other hyperventilated. “Webby?” she called. “Lena?”

“Yeah,” Webby said quietly. “Lena, I’m going to turn on the light. Is that okay?”

Lena must have nodded, because the soft light flicked on a moment later, and Buckley took a moment to observe the scene. Lena was curled in tight on herself, her blanket tangled around her as she tried to catch her breath. Webby had one arm around her, eyes wide.

“Here.” Beakley lifted herself into the loft and sitting on the edge of the bed. “May I?” She rested a hand on the blanket, and Lena nodded mutely, and Beakley set to work with unwrapping her. “Deep breaths, Lena. In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

“Can’t,” Lena gasped, curling up tighter. “Can’t, I c-can’t, I—”

“Yes, you can,” Beakley said gently but firmly. Della had already filled her and Scrooge in about the panic attack she’d caught Lena in the middle of, but she felt pretty safe assuming Lena didn’t want anyone else to know about that. “Deep breaths. Webby, can you…?”

“Yeah.” Webby demonstrated for Lena, who tried desperately to suck in another breath, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Too fast,” Beakley said, getting the blanket unwound from her chest. “Try starting over on an exhale. Focus on Webby, and try again.”

Lena nodded shakily. It took a moment of hiccuping, but finally she managed to take one full breath, and let it go slowly. “Yeah, like that!” Webby lit up, trying to be encouraging. “There you go, see, you’re okay…”

Beakley finally got the blanket off Lena, and the teen slumped, scrubbing at her eyes. “What happened?” Beakley asked. Lena shook her head.

“J-Just a nightmare…”

“That was not just a nightmare. You were screaming bloody murder.”

Lena winced. Great. That meant everyone else was probably gathered downstairs waiting for Beakley to report back in. “I… I woke up and I thought I saw… there was some light coming in from the door, there was a shadow…” She shuddered, shaking her head furiously. “It was nothing. It doesn’t matter. It was just a nightmare. She’s gone.”

“Magica?” Webby guessed. Lena nodded miserably, and Beakley had to look away. They hadn’t told her yet that Magica — her tormentor, her would-be killer — had survived and escaped, even if she was powerless. Webby brushed Lena’s pink strand of hair back from her eyes, hugging her tight. “You’re safe. It’s okay. Nothing is getting into this place.”

If Lena had been thinking, she might have questioned that. But she was still half asleep and disoriented and barely holding on to her shred of sanity. She didn’t notice.

Webby went to get her sleeping bag so she could stay on the floor with Lena (they really needed to get her a bed, but she was hesitating on if she wanted to stay in Webby’s room), while Beakley stayed with Lena, resting one hand over the teen’s. “How many panic attacks have you had?” she asked quietly, fixing her stern but gentle gaze on her. She looked up, meeting Beakley’s eyes.

“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered. “A few?”

“Do you know what’s triggering them?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Sometimes I get overwhelmed when things are too loud or too bright. Or I think I see a shadow move on its own…” She shuddered. They were all well aware of Lena’s aversion to seeing shadows, and the way she always positioned herself to try and avoid them. They had started adjusting to accommodate her without even realizing what they were doing. Not that anyone minded.

Webby returned with her sleeping bag, spreading it out next to Lena (almost on top of Lena’s blanket nest). Beakley waited for her to get settled before turning off the light.

“Granny, can you close the door?”

“Of course. Sleep well, girls.”

She heard rustling as she climbed down, shutting the loft behind her — Webby snuggling into Lena, she was sure.

“Boys, back to bed,” she ordered.

“Is Lena okay?” Huey asked, frowning.

“She had a bad nightmare. She’ll be fine. Off with you three, go on.”

They exchanged slightly sour looks but turned and walked out. Beakley waited until she was sure they were around the corner before catching Scrooge’s eye, and he nodded. “My office,” he said quietly. Della and Donald followed, more out of habit than anything else.

“We have to tell her about Magica,” Beakley said as soon as the door was closed.

“Tell her _what_ about Magica?” Della asked, frowning. “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

“Well… yes and no,” Scrooge said slowly, settling in his chair. “The amulet containing her powers is currently in our possession — sort of.”

“It’s currently in Lena, from what she and Webby have said,” Beakley added. “Webby and Violet were trying to break into the Shadow Realm — Violet found the amulet on the beach after the shadows returned to normal—”

“They were messin’ around with magic and got in over their heads,” Scrooge grumbled. “This is exactly why I don’t like it.”

“Lena’s shadow form apparently absorbed the amulet,” Beakley continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “I assume that’s part of what allowed her to return to this realm and at least partially what’s providing her with magic now.”

“So Lena has Magica’s amulet,” Della said slowly. “Okay. What does this have to do with Magica? I mean, she’s dead, right? Or trapped in your dime?”

“That… would be the problem.” Scrooge looked toward the window. “She was powerless, no one really thought at the time she was a threat—”

“You let her get away?!” Della screeched, earning herself an unhappy quack from her brother as she yelled in his ear. “Why in the—”

“You have to understand, Della,” Scrooge said quietly. “We had other priorities. Half of Duckburg had been destroyed by the shadows, Webby and Dewey watched Magica kill Lena and were upset, and Magica… honestly, she’s harmless when she has no powers.”

“She’s not harmless to Lena! The kid’s comfort right now is that she thinks she’s safe from Magica, and she’s not. Especially if she _has_ the witch’s source of power.”

She was right. They’d wanted to protect Lena — she had enough trauma without worrying that she was going to turn a corner and run into Magica. She was still recovering from getting out of the Shadow Realm.

They weren’t doing her any favors by hiding it either, though.

* * *

Lena was cautious but not totally on guard as she walked into Scrooge’s office, where the old man and Beakley were waiting for her. She was fairly certain they wanted to talk to her about therapy.

“What’s up?” she asked, flopping into the chair across from Scrooge. Beakley was standing off to the side, her hands clasped in front of her. “Is this the ‘we’re throwing you out’ conversation?”

Scrooge smiled faintly. “Of course not, lass. You’re stuck with us for as long as you’ll have us.”

“I’m sure I’ll burn down the manor or something ridiculous to make you all hate me.” Her tone was casual, almost amused. Scrooge hated to kill that mood.

“I doubt that. But there… is something we need to talk to you about.”

Lena frowned, tilting her head. “Did you get my police record?”

“No, we — you have a police record?”

“A different name in every town, don’t worry.”

Scrooge blinked, then shook his head. “Well, that _is_ good to know. But no. It’s about Magica.”

Lena stiffened, her fingers tightening on the edge of her seat. “What about her?” _Deep breath, deep breath_ …

“We were… not completely honest about what happened after she tried to destroy you,” Scrooge said slowly. “What _do_ you remember?”

“Um…” Lena shook her head. “Not much. She blasted me, and I kind of vaguely remember grabbing Webby’s shadow, but I’m pretty sure I lost a day or two. The next thing I really remember is Huey giving everyone a lecture about the importance of tracking in the woods. Your lives are not _nearly_ as exciting as people think they are.”

Scrooge nodded, smiling faintly before settling back into a more serious expression. “Well, when we said Magica was gone, we weren’t completely honest. She was left powerless after the battle, but she escaped.” Lena’s face had gone completely blank. “Her powers were gone, we didn’t think much of her, she can’t do anything without magic…”

“So she’s still _out there?_ ” Lena’s voice cracked as she pressed against the back of her seat, eyes wide. “Do you know where she is?!”

“Well… no, tracking her hasn’t been a priority… but Lena she can’t hurt you, you’re safe—”

“Of course she can hurt me! I have her powers, her _goal_ is going to be to hurt me when she finds out!” Lena stood and backed up simultaneously, knocking over the chair. “If you’re not worried about yourself, fine, but do you know what she’ll do to me?!”

“She won’t do anything to you,” Beakley said firmly. “We won’t let her.”

“You can’t protect me from her. Nothing can protect me from her.” She was starting to hyperventilate as she back up, blue energy beginning to sweep around her hands.

“Lena,” Scrooge said gently, standing. “She can’t get in here. She couldn’t get in even when she had powers. She needed you.”

“And how do you know she can’t still use me?! How do you know she won’t possess me the minute she has the chance? You don’t, nobody knows! She could use me to hurt all of you!”

Her body shifted very suddenly, becoming an inverted image of herself and slipping through the floor with a yell.

“Lena!”

That had not gone at all the way they had been hoping.

“Come on,” Scrooge said with a sigh. “I’ll get Della and Donald to help look for her.”

The mansion was huge, of course, and full of shadows, and they weren’t quite sure how in control Lena was at the moment. Scrooge was finally forced to interrupt the kids playing video games and ask them if they had seen her and explain what had happened. “Oh man, she didn’t _know_ about Magica?” Huey asked in disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“Never mind it now, just help us find her.”

It took nearly three hours of searching before Scrooge finally caught something shifting in a corner. “Lena?” He turned back to see a small ball of shadow that definitely wasn’t being cast by anything in the area.

“I can’t get out,” she whispered. Scrooge went to kneel in front of her.

“I know you’re scared, lass.”

“I’m never going to be safe from her.” Tears filled her eyes. “I thought I was finally free, but I’m not, am I?”

“Ya _are_ , though. You’re not being controlled by her. You make your own choices now. You can be whoever you want.”

“She’ll just come back for me.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I have her magic. She’s going to get me.”

“No, she won’t. She has to go through every single person in this mansion first. And I don’t envy the person who tries to fight Webby to get to you.” That earned him a small smile. “I know you’re scared,” he said again. “I can’t imagine what must be going through yer mind right now. But you’re not alone. out You have an entire family behind you. You don’t have to hide in the shadows anymore.”

It was hard to make a facial expressions on a shadow, but Lena shifted after a moment, hand moving — and slowly reaching out of the wall, turning back to a normal color. Scrooge grasped her hand and tugged slightly; not hard enough to pull her out completely, but to encourage her.

The girl stumbled out of the wall, and Scrooge caught her, pulling her into a tight hug. She pressed her face into his shoulder, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“I can’t face her again. I can’t.”

“I can’t promise you’ll never have to,” Scrooge admitted, brushing her hair back. “But I _can_ say for sure that you won’t be alone, and that you have far more power than she ever will.”

“This is _her_ magic—”

“I don’t mean the magic, lass. I mean your family. You’ve got all of us on your side. Having a place here doesn’t just make you a member of this household. It means we’re here for ya, through good and bad. We have your back.”

Lena wiped her eyes over Scrooge’s shoulder, nodding slowly. “Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath and pulling away. “I appreciate you telling me.”

“I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” And she did, kind of. They wanted to protect her. It was weird, but she got it.

They heard Webby yelling Lena’s name somewhere else in the manor, and Scrooge chuckled. “We should let everyone know you’re okay before Webby tears the place down.”  
He rested a hand on Lena’s shoulder, and she smiled. “Yeah. Definitely.”


	5. Perception and Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena's used to having a body that doesn't have needs - shadows don't really need to eat or sleep, after all. She has a lot of bad habits to unlearn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I am actually honestly FASCINATED by Lena and just... what she is in general. She's a shadow, but she's solid, but her body isn't like, a shell or anything. So *what is she*???? I have so many questions!

“Lena, eat,” Beakley said firmly as she walked by, watching Lena turn a sausage over on her plate.

“I am.”

“No, you’re playing with your food.”

Lena gave a long-suffering sigh that only a teenager was capable of. “I’m not hungry.”

“That’s what you said last night at dinner. And lunch. And breakfast.”

“You’re keeping track of how much I eat?” Lena asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Beakley said without shame. She had been for quite a while — long before Lena had moved in. The girl was far too skinny, and she  _ never _ seemed to eat. Beakley had figured food was bound to go missing when Lena had started coming around (the girl clearly didn’t get enough food at home), but she barely took the food she was  _ offered _ . “Besides, you’ll need all of your energy today if you want to keep up with Webby.”

“Right, right.” She took a bite of her sausage, sighing. Beakley had decided if Lena was going to live there, she was going to learn how to properly fight (even if she didn’t go any adventures, plenty of stuff happened right at the manor). And it would be a good way to help her experiment with her magic.

“Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaai-ya!”

Lena yelped as Webby tackled her, nearly knocking her off the chair. “Jeez!” Lena sat up as Webby giggled.

“This is so exciting. I’ve never had anyone except Granny to fight against!”

“What’re you guys doing?” Dewey asked, flopping down at a seat and grabbing a bagel from the plate in the middle of the table.

“I’m getting the hopefully extremely toned version of super spy training,” Lena said dryly.

“How come you get to learn how to fight? You’ve already got magic.”

“Oh I get to experiment with that too, don’t worry. No one escapes Colonel Crumpet’s regimen.”

“Which is exactly why you should stop putting it off and finish eating,” Beakley said as she walked by through.

“I wanna learn too,” Dewey said quickly, standing up, earning himself three surprised looks.

“You do?”

“You can take my place.”

“I think I can handle one more child,” Beakley informed Lena, who sighed.

“Worth a shot.”

She leaned forward to watch Beakley leave, then pushed her plate toward Webby and Dewey. “Want the rest?”

“Aren’t  _ you _ supposed to be eating?” Webby asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I ate enough, and that’s just a couple bites.”

Dewey reached around Webby to grab a piece of sausage, making a face when she glared. “What? She offered.”

“And I really don’t need to eat much,” Lena added. “Side effect of having a body that’s physical existence is questionable at best.”

Webby gave her a Look. “Are you  _ sure _ you’re not hungry?”

“Yes. Positive. Do you really think I’d pass up free anything?”

“O-kaaaaaaay,” Webby said reluctantly, grabbing a grape.

“Wait no, those I want.”

The food was gone by the time Beakley returned; she was probably a little suspicious, but Lena eating the last piece of fruit probably helped.

“Okay,” Beakley said as she led them into the backyard. “Dewey, show me a fist.”

Dewey grinned, making a fist and thrusting it up into the air, bouncing. “Right,” Beakley said slowly. “You’ll break your hand that way. Come here.”

Lena nudged Webby off to the side while Beakley worked with Dewey. “Okay, let’s see if I can…” She held up a hand, closing her eyes. She didn’t  _ like _ magic. She hadn’t said that just to rile up Magica — she just didn’t like magic. It had always felt strange, the way it seemed to vibrate through her body, the way it changed her…

“Oooooooh.”

Lena’s eyes snapped open at Webby’s amazed tone. Her hand had not only turned blue, but was surrounded by wavering blue energy. “Cooooool.” There were stars in Webby’s eyes. “What do you think you can do?”

“Well, telekinesis was a thing.” Lena’s eyes scanned the yard, and she settled on a potted plant on Donald’s boat. Webby squealed as blue energy wrapped around the plant, and it raised into the air. Beakley and Dewey looked over.

“That’s so cool!” Webby bounced. Lena twitched a finger, and the pot raised itself a bit higher.

“Impressive range,” Beakley said, trying to measure the distance between Lena and the boat. A sharp pain stabbed at Lena’s head, breaking her concentration, and the pot dropped, shattering.

“Oops."

“Eh, the plant was probably dead,” Dewey said with a shrug. “We can blame Louie.”

“So how come your magic is blue?” Webby asked. “I mean, Magica’s was like that bright purple-ish.”

“Like the color of the amulet,” Lena said. “Yeah, mine used to be like that, too.”

“What happened?”

“You did.” Lena smiled wryly. “Thank god you’re oblivious sometimes because you accidentally triggered my powers during the whole money shark thing.”

Webby’s eyes were bulging out of her head. “I  _ did _ ?”

“Yup. You that’s how the magic ended up in your bracelet.” Webby held up her wrist to look at the bracelet in awe. “I’m not sure  _ why _ blue, but you definitely caused it.”

“That’s so  _ cool _ !” Webby threw herself at Lena, hugging her tight. Lena laughed. It was easy to impress Webby.

“Sneak attaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!”

Lena looked back even as an orb formed around them, and Dewey slammed into it, falling back with a groan. “Well,” Mrs. Beakley said slowly. “You may want to avoid yelling sneak attack when you want to actually sneak up on someone. And choose your opponents wisely — Webby would have back-flipped you into a tree if Lena hadn’t stopped you.”

“It’s true,” Webby piped up.

Dewey sighed, picking himself up. “It was a good fist, though,” Beakley assured him. “Small steps.”

The ground seemed to slip beneath Lena, and she stumbled, grabbing Webby’s shoulder for support. “Hey, are you okay?” Webby reached to help Lena support herself. The teen shook her head, trying to shake off the sudden dizziness.

“Yeah. Magic, you know.”

“Yeah…” Webby frowned.

“Why don’t you sit for a minute?” Beakley suggested. “We can work on fighting after.”

Lena nodded, settling on the ground and curling her legs under herself. Webby flopped down to join her. “What else do you think you can do?” she asked, some excitement back in her voice.

“Well I’ve definitely gone into shadow form twice,” Lena said thoughtfully. “Um… energy blasts, like—” She cupped her hands together, summoning a little bit of magic to make a ball in her hand. It bounced up and popped apart like fireworks. “Spell casting. I dunno. I’d have to experiment. I wonder if I can go through the shadow realm or teleport… Magica was able to move pretty far away from me if I was standing still. And I saw her teleport once at least. Or just move really fast. Oh, and she made that cage around me and Scrooge…”

She held up a hand, frowning for a moment, and a blue box etched itself to life. “Woooooooooow.” Webby’s eyes were wide.

“It was more impressive when Magica did it.”

“Yeah, but you’re way better than her.”

Lena smiled, waving a hand, and the box broke apart. “I’m trying.”

“Lena, are you ready? Dewey needs a practice partner who won’t break him.”

“I wouldn’t break him  _ that _ much,” Webby said with a giggle, hopping up and offering Lena a hand, helping her up as well.

“I’m assuming you know the basics of hand-to-hand combat,” Beakley said.

“I can punch without breaking my hand.” She held up a fist to demonstrate. “Not as hard as Webby, though.”

“Perfect. Dewey, are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Dewey was bouncing, eager. Lena had to smile a little.

“Hang on, Lena, how much experience  _ do _ you have with fighting?” Webby asked curiously. “Like, without magic?”

She was a sarcastic, sassy, perpetual teenager who had spent fifteen years getting across the world. Mrs. Beakley had no doubt she had talked her way into a lot of situations and fought her way out of them. “Enough,” Lena said, stretching her arms. “You first, Dewford. Free hit.”

“Don’t—” Webby started to say, but Beakley covered her mouth and backed her away.

“He needs to learn that lesson the hard way.”

Dewey, raised his fists, ready, and ran at Lena. It took her exactly two seconds to pick out everything wrong with this form, and tried to decide which one to exploit. He swung his fist, and she dodged, grabbing his arm before he could pull it back, twirling him around and keeping his arm behind his back. The duckling yelped, nearly falling over, but Lena kept him on his feet. The last thing she needed was to accidentally dislocate his shoulder.

“Was that sentence going to be ‘don’t trust anyone who says free hit’?” Dewey asked, grimacing.

“Yeah,” Webby said with a sympathetic smile.

“You had the right idea,” Beakley said. Lena released him, and he straightened up, rubbing his shoulder. “You need to tighten up your form, though. Lena, you’re very clearly self taught.”

“Well, yeah, do you think I was sparring with Magica?”

“Ha!” Webby jumped on Lena from the left, and she yelped, falling over. “Never leave yourself unguarded.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, twisting her hand so it was hidden from view. “Never assume someone is going to follow the set rules,” she teased as blue energy wrapped around Webby, lifting her into the air.

“Okay, on the one hand, this is cheating,” Webby said. “On the other, it’s  _ so cool _ ! I’m flying!”

“No such thing as cheating in a real fight. You drop-kicked Magica.”

“In the ribs!” Webby giggled. “You saw that?”

“I still had a little awareness in her shadow.”

“Okay, okay.” Beakley sounded amused. “Put her down, Lena.”

“Yes ma’am Colonel Crump—”

Lena wasn’t exactly sure what happened first, but in  _ some _ order her vision went dark, the beginnings of a migraine bloomed in her head, her knees gave out, and she dropped Webby.

She didn’t black out, exactly. She couldn’t see, but she was aware. She felt a pair of small arms try to at least slow her her descent, and distantly heard everyone calling her name. A large hand pressed to her forehead.

“Lena?” Beakley’s voice, loud and firm, broke through the fog. “Can you hear me?”

Lena grimaced, trying to remember how the different parts of her body worked. “Yeah,” she finally muttered, pressing a hand to her temple. “Ow…”

She shook her head, blinking rapidly to try and clear her vision, and the world finally started swimming back into view. Webby and Beakley were in front of her, both concerned. It must have been Dewey holding her up. That was impressive, she thought dizzily. She was definitely twice his height.

“You’re shaking,” the blue-clad triplet said. Lena held out her hand to examine it. Sure enough, it was trembling violently.

“Looks like I am. Must be too much magic.”

Webby frowned. “You lifted me and a potted plant, made a shield, and made a little box. You’ve spent three hours as a shadow before, and once you phased through the floor and made an entire hallway look like there was a tornado and that barely hurt you.”

Lena scowled faintly, raising an eyebrow at Webby. She looked right back, face set. “Let’s get you inside,” Mrs. Beakley suggested. She had suspicions, but making sure Lena was okay was the first priority. “Can you stand?”

“Yeah, I think I’m good…”

Dewey helped her up, only stepping back when Webby grabbed her arm. She was shaky, but she could stand. It was relief to get inside, away from the blinding sun; the pounding in her head let up just slightly.

The den was blissfully empty. Lena dropped onto the couch, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes and groaning. She hadn’t noticed Beakley breaking away from them, but the older duck was suddenly pushing a cold water bottle into her hands.

“Drink. Slowly.”

“Yes ma’am.” She took a small sip, and had to stop herself from guzzling it when she realized how  _ thirsty _ she was.

“What  _ happened _ ?” Dewey asked, looking between everyone.

“I have a theory,” Mrs. Beakley said, sitting down on the other side of Webby, who was close to Lena.

“I’m listening,” Lena said wearily.

“I know you keep saying you don’t need to eat or sleep as much, and I believe that  _ was _ true before Magica came back. But is it possible now you’re just not  _ aware _ of what your body needs?”

Lena blinked a few times, the weight of Beakley’s words setting in. “You haven’t slept in like, three days,” Webby pointed out. The only reason she knew that was because Lena hadn’t woken up screaming for the last three nights.

“I guess it’s possible,” she admitted reluctantly. “It’s not like my body’s any realer now than it was when Magica made me.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Mrs. Beakley said. The truth was, they didn’t know anything about Lena.  _ Lena  _ didn’t know anything about Lena. “It’s entirely possible you’re just not able to perceive things the way… well…”

“The way someone normal would,” Lena filled in the words for her. “I guess it’s… possible.” She took another sip of water. “I don’t exactly know how to test it. I haven’t slept in three days, but I’m not tired. I’m not really that hungry.” She took another sip. “I  _ am _ thirsty.”

“Well, that’s something,” Beakley said, frowning slightly. The teen was starting to look a little less shaky, a bit of awareness returning to her gaze. “We’ll need to keep an eye on it.”

“Does that mean more nagging?”

“If it keeps you healthy, yes.”

Lena sighed, sliding over to rest her head on Webby’s shoulder. “Oh my god.” She shot up again. “I dropped you!”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Webby waved her off. “I’ve fallen waaaaaaaaaaaaay further than that. Kind of an occupational hazard when you’re trying to keep up with Scrooge. I almost fell out of the plane once!”

“What?” Beakley cut in flatly. Webby laughed nervously.

“I mean, what, oh, Lena, you need food!”

She bolted off before Beakley could stop her. The woman sighed, pressing her hand to Lena’s forehead again. Not as clammy or cold or shaky. 

“Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re going to eat, and then we’re going to try and find a way to help you sleep. I don’t  _ want _ to drug you, but I won’t take it off the table yet.”

Webby returned with a plate of grapes, some cut up apple pieces, a banana, and a granola bar. “I didn’t give you that much, so you gotta finish.”

Lena half-smiled, taking the plate. “Yes Lieutenant Crumpet.”


	6. Getting To Know Each Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pre-Shadow War Lena and Webby are very different from post-Shadow War Lena and Webby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know i just updated, but I finished writing this and.... I JUST WANT TO SHARE IT.

Webby did her best to understand Lena’s anxiety.

She knew what anxiety  _ was _ . She had plenty of it herself, usually when she was meeting new people or trying to impress someone or trying to lie to her grandmother (which never worked). She knew that awful, creeping feeling of  _ oh my god I’m doing everything wrong, everything is wrong, what is wrong with me?! _

But she didn’t always understand Lena. And she hated that. She didn’t know why sometimes Lena woke up screaming and clung to her, and other times she pulled away and curled in on herself. And Lena didn’t talk about it, of course. She gave vague descriptions — Magica, shadows, trapped in the shadow realm — but Webby never knew what  _ exactly _ was so upsetting. She didn’t know what triggered the panic attacks Lena would sometimes have out of nowhere, or why Lena would just close herself off, usually in Della’s room, for hours. That last part really confused her. When had Della and Lena gotten so close?

Webby wasn’t jealous that Lena shared something with Della that she didn’t share with Webby. Absolutely not. No.

“Hey Lena?”

“Hmm?”

“What’re your dreams about?”

Lena went very still. They were laying on Webby’s bed, Webby near the headboard reading a book, Lena playing on her phone at the other end. She slowly lowered it and propped herself up on her elbows, meeting Webby’s gaze.

“I’ve told you, they’re just about… Magica and stuff, you know.”

“I… don’t know, really,” Webby said slowly. “You never talk about it.”

“What’s to talk about?" Lena started to curl in on herself — a sure sign that the conversation was either about to shut down or get angry. Webby ignored it.

“Anything. What’s happening in the dream? What does Magica do? How come sometimes you’ll let me hug you when you wake up and sometimes you don’t? Literally anything would be more than you tell me now.”

Lena’s shoulders had hunched up slowly, but she didn’t look ready to run — she was ready to argue. “What does any of that  _ matter _ ?”

“It’s not  _ just _ that, it’s… everything. You don’t  _ talk _ to me. Why do you look at your shadow every morning? Why do you just… run out sometimes when we’re all hanging out or something? What are you afraid of? Why do you spend so much time in  _ Della’s _ room?”

She really, really didn’t mean for that last question to come out sounding so bitter. Really. But the thoughts had been eating away at her, and now she couldn’t stop herself.

Lena’s expression grew stonier through each word. “Why. Do you. Care.” The words were very slow and careful. A warning. Webby ignored it.

“Because I don’t  _ know _ anything! I know nothing about you, I never have! You’ve never told me the truth about  _ anything _ !”

And that was where she crossed the line. “If it bothers you that much then why am I even here?” Lena snapped, jumping off the bed. “Just tell me to get out if I’m that untrustworthy.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“You might as well have.” Lena snatched her phone up, storming to the open loft hatch and jumping down. Webby opened her mouth to call after her, then just sighed, flopping back on the bed. She’d give Lena some time to calm down. She was just going to Della’s room, Webby was sure. The duckling rolled onto her side, tears filling her eyes. She didn’t fight often with people. She never knew how to handle it when she did.

* * *

Webby ended up falling asleep, waking up a few hours later feeling no better. Lena still wasn’t back, and Webby knew she was going to have to make the first move. She rolled out of bed, smoothing out her bedhead as she jumped down through the loft hatch and heading out into the hall.

And she was immediately bowled over. “Ow! Louie!”

Louie pulled off a surprisingly good recovery roll, bringing up his dart gun. “Webby, duck!”

She dove for the ground and covered her head, heard a pop as the gun was fired, and then Della laughing. “Slain by my own son!” she said dramatically. “Dewey, avenge me!”

“I’m coming Mom!” Dewey yelled, skidding around the corner. The boys ran off, laughing. Webby looked up at Della, making a face.

“Have you seen Lena?”

Della tilted her head. “Lena? Not today, no. I’ve been with the boys all day. She might be in my room, though. I told her she could hide in there if she needed to.”

“Can we look?”

“Yeah, of course.” Della helped Webby up. “Come on.”

The older duck must have been dying to know what was going on — it was  _ rare _ that Webby didn’t know where Lena was — but she didn’t question it.

The first thing Webby noticed was that Della’s room was  _ dark _ . Not standard, lights off no one in the room dark, but no light, no way for light to get in, Webby would need her night vision goggles dark.

“Whoa.”

Della flipped a switch, and two soft lights in opposite corners of the room lit up, along with a wall of soft white Christmas lights. “Lena?” Della called, walking in and looking around. It was pretty obvious she wasn’t there, though. Webby’s shoulders slumped, tears filling her eyes. “Okay.” Della closed the door. “What happened?”

“We had a fight…”

Webby slowly walked through the story, stopping to sniff and rub her eyes every now and again. Della had gently led her to the bed by the time she was finished.

“...And I didn’t  _ mean _ to sound like I was jealous or… or… I just want to help too.” Webby dropped her head, staring at the floor. Della sighed, resting a hand on Webby’s back.

“There are… a  _ lot _ of reasons Lena comes to me that she should explain on her own. But I’ll give you one of them.” Webby looked up, tears in her eyes. “She doesn’t want to bother you or think she’s not okay.”

“What?” Webby stared at Della, then shook her head. “That’s… ridiculous, I’m there every night, I hear her screaming—”

“I didn’t say it made sense,” Della said quickly. “I’ve tried to talk it through with her more times than I can count, but it keeps coming back to… I don’t know. She doesn’t want to be a bother to any of you.”

“But she’s my best friend. Doesn’t she know that?”

“She’s well aware,” Della assured Webby. “That’s why she doesn’t want to bother you.”

Webby wiped her eyes viciously. “That doesn’t make  _ any _ sense.”

“Guilt and trauma don’t make sense sometimes,” Della said with a sad smile. “Lena’s been through a lot. She doesn’t want to put that burden on you.”

“But I  _ want _ her to talk to me.”

“And I’m sure she will — in time. She has a lot to figure out first.”

“Yeah…” Webby agreed reluctantly, looking around the room. She could see why Lena would want to hide here. It was quiet and peaceful… and dark. “So how come all the…?”

She waved her hand around, indicating the room. “Oh, well… short version is that the moon is very quiet and very dark and sometimes being out and about, running around with the boys, gets a little overwhelming. I made a space for myself that was calm and quiet and not blinding like everywhere else.”

Something clicked in Webby’s head. “Is that why Lena comes here so much?”

“Partially, yes. Things get overwhelming for her sometimes, too.” Duh. Of course. Webby had seen the shadow realm. That had been Lena’s life for  _ months _ . Of course the normal world would be too much for her.

“Where’d you get those curtains?” she asked, pointing to the heavy curtains blocking out all the sunlight.

Della smiled. “I can take you to pick some up whenever you want.”

Webby nodded, starting to smile again. “I’m going to find her.” Her voice was determined.

“You got this. You still know her better than anyone else. You can find her.”

“Yeah. I got this.”

* * *

She didn’t have this. She had searched the entire town. She had even gone down into the terra-firmian tunnels, briefly, to see if Lena had retreated there for the dark and quiet. No luck.

She was walking along the beach now, staring sadly at the sand. Where else would Lena go…

Almost on cue, a glass bottle drifted slowly toward her in the tide. She lit up, jumping into the water to grab it and pop the cork off, unfurling the piece of paper inside.

_ There’s a really big jerk who overreacted and yelled at her best friend and she’s really, really sorry. _

Tears filled Webby’s eyes, and she found the rock path to jump down to the amphitheatre.

Lena was sitting in the shadows of the crumbling wall, her legs curled up tight to her chest. “Hi,” Webby announced herself with a smile. “I’m looking for someone who thinks she’s a really big jerk.”

Lena gave her a small half-smile. “And she’s really, really sorry.”

Webby bounded forward, practically falling onto Lena and hugging her tight. Lena uncurled to tug her in. “I didn’t mean to get so upset,” Webby whispered, nuzzling into Lena’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten mad,” Lena said. “I’m sorry, I just… I don’t like talking about it. Or know how.”

“I know, I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

“You’re right, though. I’ve never told you the truth about anything.”

“You aren’t lying about being my friend.” Webby wiped her eyes over her shoulder, pulling away and smiling. “You’ve never lied about that.”

“Well,  _ technically _ …”

“Shush, you were my friend. You just didn’t know it.”

Lena smiled weakly. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. I just…” She looked down at stage, shoulders hunching. “I want to talk to you. And tell you things. I just want to… I don’t know. Reset our friendship.”

Webby frowned thoughtfully, then brightened up, grabbing the bottle, a clean piece of paper, and the pen, scribbling a message. “Webby, what—”

“Ssssshhh.” She finished, put the paper in, corked the bottle, and threw it as hard as she could into the water.

“What’re you—”

“Ssssshhhhh.”

Webby jumped down, hopping across the rocks, and grabbed the bottle, picking it up. She got the letter out and jumped back to Lena. “Hi! I found this letter from someone who’s looking for an awesome best friend that she definitely doesn’t already know.”

Lena took the letter. Sure enough, in a pretty good imitation of her handwriting, was the letter Webby had described. “I… guess I am?”

“Great! So am I.” The younger duck thrust her hand out. “Hi! My name’s Webby. I’m thirteen, I live with grandmother, an old rich man, three brothers, and their mother who just came back from the moon. I’ve never really had a friend before and sometimes I get overexcited, but I’m a really awesome person when you get to know me.”

“Uh…” Lena looked between Webby, her hand, and the letter. “I’m… Lena,” she finally said slowly, taking Webby’s hand. “I’m fifteen… technically. I was made from the shadow of an evil sorceress to get revenge against an old man who trapped her in a dime, she lived in my shadow and kind of… verbally abused me, I guess, and by the end of it I was just sick of her and wanted to be free. So I fought back against her and um… ended up spending six months in the shadow realm where I was basically a ghost. Being back has been really… weird.”

“That sounds really scary,” Webby said. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“I… I think I do, yeah.”

Webby smiled, flopping down and crossing her legs under herself. “Take as much time as you need. I can be patient.”

Lena nearly laughed as she sat. Patient. Right. “I’m not really sure where to start.”

“What do you want to talk about? The horrible sorceress? Wanting to be free? Being trapped in the shadow realm? Coming back? I’m not trying to be pushy, just offering suggestions.”

Lena tangled her fingers together, taking a few deep breaths. “I never really thought I’d get out of the shadow realm, ya know? I didn’t have a plan. There was this girl, I guess she was kind of my friend, and she was really determined to get me out, but I didn’t think she  _ would _ .”

“She sounds pretty awesome.”

“She’s okay,” Lena teased. Webby stuck her tongue out at Lena. “But now that I’m here I… I don’t know what to do.”

Webby sobered up, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Lena looked out toward the setting sun. “I didn’t think I’d make it this far. I’ve got all this life now, and I don’t know what to do with it. That’s terrifying. And there’s all this other...stuff…” She waved her hand, trying to think. “I’m scared. A lot.”

“What are you scared of?”

Lena laughed bitterly. “ _ Everything _ . Lights are too bright. Everything is too loud. Feeling too crowded freaks me out. I hate leaving the house. I’m afraid of my own  _ shadow _ .”

“That makes sense, though. You said the horrible sorceress lived in it.”

“Yeah. It’s still stupid.”

“I don’t think so.” Webby shrugged. “My shadow came to life and attacked me. That was pretty freaky. I think I’d be afraid too if my shadow was constantly alive and could yell at me any time she wanted.”

Lena gave her a small smile. “I know she’s gone — I mean, not really gone, but she can’t hurt me anymore. Sometimes it feels like she’s still controlling me, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because… I’m still afraid. I’m afraid I’m going to look at my shadow and see her. Every time I turn a corner, I worry she’s there. I have nightmares where she comes back and just… destroys this entire life I’m trying to make. She hurts everyone I care about, and it’s my fault. And they all hate me for it.”

Webby couldn’t stop herself from breaking character; she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms tight around Lena’s neck and hugging her close. “Nobody hates you, Lena. I thought you got that by now.”

“I’m trying,” Lena said quietly, clinging to Webby. They held each other for a moment before something occurred to Webby, and she pulled back, hands still on Lena’s shoulders.

“Is that why you spend so much time with Della?” It would make sense. Della hadn’t been here for Lena to betray.

“Sort of.” Lena brushed her hair out of her face, gazed back on the ground. “She… kind of gets it. Not exactly the same way, but you know… stole a rocket, crashed on the moon, orphaned her kids for ten years…”

“That  _ is _ a lot to feel guilty about,” Webby admitted. “But what you’re doing to fix it is more important than what you did in the past. We’ve forgiven you. Why can’t you forgive yourself?”

“I don’t know,” Lena whispered, closing her eyes and letting her shoulders fall. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

“No, don’t be. I overreacted. I just…” Webby sighed. “I wish I understood. I know you get scared and I know you get anxious, but I don’t know how to help. Hugging you doesn’t even work sometimes. I don’t like not being able to help you.”

Lena laughed weakly, dragging her arm across her eyes. “You don’t have to help me, Webby.”

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend.”

They exchanged looks, smiling wearily, before Lena leaned forward, resting her forehead on Webby’s shoulder. Webby held her tight. “I’ll try to explain more,” Lena murmured after a moment.

“I’ll try to be more patient. And less pushy.” Webby leaned back again, holding up a fist. “Deal?”

Lena smiled, bumping her fist against Webby’s. “Deal.”

* * *

It was one of the rare nights that Lena slept through without any nightmares. It was nice to just wake up naturally…

Or to a crash as Webby fell off a chair.

“What?” Lena shot up, looking around, finally finding Webby picking herself up off the floor. “What are you — are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Webby said cheerfully. “I was just…”

She gestured to the window, where a blanket was half-hung like a curtain. “I saw the curtains in Della’s room, and she said she’d take me to buy a real set, but I wanted to try and make it dark for you this morning and…”

Lena shook her head, smiling. “You’re… ridiculous.”

“But you looooooooove me.”

 

That got her a pillow to the face.


	7. First Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Lena's *and* Della's first Christmas with the whole family. Of course they have to overboard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I know it's June but am I supposed to wait until December to post this chapter? Plus there's a lot of important stuff in this chapter (mostly things Lena gets from the others) that come up in other chapters so.... might as well get that out of the way.
> 
> Plus, Christmas.

“Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat do you mean you’ve never celebrated Christmas?!”

Lena cringed away from Louie, looking to Webby for support, but Webby seemed just as stunned. “I’m not sure how you guys are still  _ surprised _ that I’ve never done anything  _ normal _ .”

“Because it’s  _ Christmas _ !” Louie threw his arms in the air.

“Yeah, the evil witch living in my shadow didn’t really care about the spirit of  _ giving _ .”

“One thing we have in common,” Scrooge said as he sat at the end of the table, taking his tea from Mrs. Beakley.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Lena said with a shrug. “I could always depend on a free meal from a shelter or something during the holidays. Except for that one time I got picked up by child services. Turns out looking like you’re fifteen forever doesn’t exactly make it easy to get from  _ Italy _ to Duckburg.” She munched on her bagel for a moment. “I’m still not sure why she thought making me a  _ kid _ was a good idea.”

“Maybe she thought Scrooge would take pity on you and take you in,” Webby suggested.

“Clearly she never  _ talked _ to Uncle Scrooge,” Louie said with a snort. 

“Oi!” 

“Let’s go back to this no Christmas thing,” Louie said, waving Scrooge off. “That is a  _ crime _ .”

“Calm down, Huey.” Lena’s favorite pastime was “accidentally” mixing the triplets up. And no one wanted to be Huey except Huey, who didn’t want to be Louie. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

Louie, of course, knew she did it on purpose, and wasn’t perturbed. He shoveled down the rest of his breakfast before running up the stairs and bursting into the bedroom he shared with his brothers.

“Lena’s never had a Christmas!”

Huey and Dewey  looked up from their books, raising an eyebrow. “And this surprises you because…?”

“Okay, fine, it’s not surprising, but it’s a crime!” Louie threw his arms in the air. “Come on guys, it’s Mom’s first Christmas with us, and it’s Lena’s first Christmas  _ period _ . We gotta do something.”

“Aaaaaaare you feeling okay?” Dewey raised an eyebrow. “Oh wait, did you take a soul-searching trip with Christmas Past?”

“I thought those happened on Christmas Eve?”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice here, okay?” Louie huffed. “Are you in or not?”

The boys exchanged looks, and nodded. “We’re in.”

* * *

“Webby, what are we  _ doing _ ?” Lena sighed as she Webby dragged her down the stairs.

“We’re going out and having the real Christmas experience! Hot chocolate and chestnuts roasting on an open fire and - and - and  _ caroling _ ! We can sing!”

“I am  _ not _ singing—”

The doorbell rang, and Duckworth rose out of the ground to open it while Webby and and Lena were getting ready to go out. “Hello Ms. Violet.”

“Hello Duckworth.” She really did take the weirdness in stride. “Webigail, Lena.”

“Hey nerd.” Lena zipped her jacket. Somehow, Beakley knew exactly when to appear and pointedly clear her throat; Lena sighed, grabbing the scarf as well. “You doing this Christmas thing with us?”

“I’m simply accompanying you on Webigail’s invitation. I’m Jewish, I don’t partake in the Christmas tradition.”

That was a new one for Lena. “Jewish?”

“Well, my parents are. I don’t particularly subscribe to any one religion. However, as I live with my parents, I still practice Judaism with them.”

“Uh…” 

 

“Wait, boys, what’re you — hey—”

They looked around to see the triplets shoving Della toward the door. “You’re going out with Webby and Lena and Violet,” Dewey explained. “It’s a girls’ day out!”

“Ooooooh, does that mean Granny is coming, too?”

Everyone looked at Beakley, who was just staring at them all. “I believe I have duties to attend to around the manor. Perhaps next time. Lena, a hat.”

“Okay, okay.” Lena sighed, grabbing a knitted hat someone had dug out when they’d realized she had no winter-appropriate clothing. It and the scarf that were forced on her were both terrible, garishly bright colors that clashed horribly, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, especially after the two weeks Lena had spent sick in bed.

“Is there any particular reason the boys want you out of the house?” Violet asked as they were shoved outside — Della included — and the door was slammed shut and locked behind them.

“No clue.” Lena looked at Della, then at Webby, who very much did  _ not _ look surprised. “I bet I know who  _ does _ have a clue, though…”

Webby yelped. “What? Who? Me? Nope, not a clue at all.”

“God, Beakley needs to teach you how to lie.” Lena grinned wickedly, wrapping an arm around Webby’s shoulder and tugging her close. “Come oooooooon Webby, you know you want to tell us what’s going on.”

Webby stuttered, eyes flicking back and forth, clearly nervous. “Oh, come on.” Della squeezed Lena’s shoulder, smiling. “They’re trying to do something to surprise us. We don’t want to ruin it, do we?”

Lena looked back at Webby, who was grinning weakly. “Oh, all right.” Lena sighed. “No ruining the surprise. Let’s go.”

Thankfully with Della, they didn’t have to take the bus or walk — or ask Launchpad for a ride, which was possibly the most horrifying option of all. “So what are we supposed to  _ do _ , anyways?” Lena asked as they drove. “I mean, besides eat roasted chestnuts and  _ not  _ singing.”

“I have some Christmas shopping to do,” Della piped up. “By which I mean  _ all _ of the Christmas shopping.”

“Isn’t it Christmas Eve?” Violet asked, frowning. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to do your shopping before this.”

“My sense of time is a bit out of whack. Moon jetlag.”

Violet tilted her head, blinking. “I never know when to take you all seriously.”

“Oh trust me, she’s not joking about that moon thing,” Webby spoke up.

“Ten years,” Della added. “Or I might just procrastinate too much. Anyways, I grabbed three of Uncle Scrooge’s credit cards, so we can go wild. Buying presents for other people, I mean.”

“He has  _ three _ credit cards?” Lena asked in disbelief. “Jeez, I should’ve swiped one when I was still living under the amphitheater.”

“He has twelve, at least. He wouldn’t even notice one missing.”

“He may notice three missing,” Violet said. “Or the huge credit card bills.”

“He has accountants to take care of that stuff. He’ll never see it. Well… there might be a mention of it at his next budgeting meeting, but he never listens to those vultures.”

The mall had served as a shelter for Lena many times over the year that had passed before she found a way into the manor. It was amazingly easy to just hide in one of the big stores and then find a comfortable corner to sleep in for the night when it was too cold to sleep outside.

The night before Christmas, however, was  _ not _ an ideal time to be there. The lights were on, voices echoing, children screaming, music playing, decorations glittering… Lena nearly backed right out the door, but Della caught her by the shoulders, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“Webby, one for you.” Della handed Webby one of the cards. She grinned, bouncing.

“Violet, is it okay if I buy you a present even though you don’t celebrate Christmas?”

“Well, it would be rude of me to refuse a present…”

Webby squealed, grabbing Violet’s hand. “Lena you have to go somewhere else, you’re not allowed to see what I’m getting for you!”

“What — but—”

“You can stick with me,” Della assured her, smiling. Webby and Violet were already disappearing into the crowd. “Come on, I need help buying for pretty much everyone.”

“You think  _ I _ have any idea what to get people?” Lena asked, yanking her hat off and shaking her hair out.

“No, but if I pick out terrible gifts, I can blame you.” Della grinned, and Lena rolled her eyes, following her deeper into the mall.

“Sure, blame the kid who’s never had a Christmas before for being bad at it.”

“Hey, you’ve spent more time with my boys than I have. I’m sure between the two of us we can figure out something for everyone.”

Della navigated the crowd easily, keeping a hand on Lena’s shoulder the entire time. Nobody talked about the sleepover they’d had after Lena had come back — one of many unspoken rules when it came to Lena. Don’t talk about Magica. Don’t bring up her aversion to loud noises, crowded spaces, and bright lights. Don’t mention when she moves to stand in an odd place to avoid casting a shadow. Don’t talk about the nightmares she still had after nearly five months of being freed from the shadow realm. They all knew the rules, though, and they all did their best to abide by them — except for every now and again when someone couldn’t resist asking about her magic, which was just a slippery slope to Magica. But she could handle that better than she could most other things.

“Ah, outdoor supplies store!” Della said with a grin. “Perfect. There’s a new swiss army knife I want to get Huey.”

“Doesn’t he own five?”

“Yeah, but this one has four new tools on it.”

She was as bad as her sons sometimes. 

The outdoor store was a bit quieter — no one was shopping for camping supplies in the middle of winter — and the knot of tension in Lena’s chest loosened slightly. 

“How do you do it?” she asked quietly as they walked through aisles. Della looked down at her, smile wavering slightly. She didn’t have to ask for clarification.

“Exposure, mostly. I go out a lot, acclimate, get used to being around people.” She shrugged. “And you know nothing is ever quiet at the manor…” Lena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. That was true. “You don’t get out as much.” It wasn’t a question or an accusal. Simply an observation.

“Yeah, outside and I are taking a break from each other. A very, very, very long break.”

“Ah, here it is!” Della stopped, grabbing a box off the shelf and looking it over. “It might help you to go out more with the kids or something. Do something quiet. Go to the movies.”

“Beakley won’t let me pick the movie anymore. And the boys have no taste in good entertainment.”

Della quirked an eyebrow at Lena. “Why won’t Beakley let you pick movies?”

“Because she has no appreciation for my educational documentary choices about the hazards of encountering supernatural creatures.” Lena paused, tilting her head. “Or she might just still be mad I brought Webby and Huey into the abandoned subway tunnels. Six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

“Okay, so we leave Beakley home. No subway tunnels, though.”

“Fine by me. I’ve had enough crazy adventures to last a lifetime or five.”

They’d made it to the register by this point, and were checking out. If the cashier had actually cared, he might have been suspicious about a credit card with Scrooge McDuck’s name. But it was the day before Christmas and he just wanted to get everyone out of the store as fast as possible.

“Okaaaaaaaaay, next,” Della said as they walked out into the mall again, her hand going back to Lena’s shoulder. “Dewey.”

“I suggest the gift of never baking for him again.”

“Funny.” Della gave Lena a slight shove, and she smirked back. “Let’s see…”

Lena looked around slowly, eyes drifting from person to person, not focused on anything in particular, until she landed on a particular storefront. “Hey, can I have the other card?” she asked, turning back to Della, who looked down at her in surprise. “Just for a couple things. I won’t spend much.”

“Sure.” Della produced the third card from her pocket, handing it over. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Lena quickly put the card in her jacket pocket and turned to run in another direction. “Get him a pair of night-vision goggles!” she called over her shoulder. “He’s always complaining that Webby cheats with hers when they play. Or something with golf. He really likes that for some reason.”

The store she had focused on was one of those tacky little places that pandered to pre-teen girls, and not generally the kind of place one would look for a gift if they knew anything at all about Webby. But there was a display of bracelet charms in the front window, and maybe they could start adding little things to their (apparently magical lifesaving) bracelets.

This place was packed, of course; it took Lena a minute to brace herself and slip in, going straight for the turning display of charms. Most of them were super sappy, and nothing Lena would ever think to buy for Webby, and she was starting to feel a little disheartened until her eyes landed on a set of charms that made her laugh. They were both heart shaped — one had  _ tall friend _ engraved on it, the other had  _ short friend _ . She grabbed the charms and went to pay.

She realized her error once she was back in the mall — Della had gone on to continue shopping, and Lena was alone. She looked around, hoping to see someone she knew, whether it was Della, Webby, or Violet. But the faces were starting to blur together, and had the lights gotten brighter?

Lena backed up, trying to keep her breathing even and steady. She was fine. She was fine. She was—

“Ah!”

She fell right through the display window.

She didn’t  _ break  _ it, or even knock anything over on the other side, and no one seemed to have noticed her spectacular fall. Because she was a shadow. “Not again,” she groaned, covering her face with her hand. At least the bag had changed with her. She pushed herself up and hurried out of the store, easily phasing through people as she ran.

Figuring out Lena’s magic was a work in progress. It wasn’t like they could hire a tutor, and Lena would sooner shove Magica off a bridge than she would ask the witch for help, if they could even find her. She could move things with her mind, she could cast simple spells, and she could slip in and out of the shadow realm, probably by her own will, if she could ever figure out how to control it. For now it only seemed to happen when she was panicking or wanted to escape.

There was an empty hallway leading to the bathrooms. Lena hurried down it and found a corner to kneel in, her hands resting on her knees.

“Come on, Lena, just breathe,” she whispered to herself. “You can do this. You’re okay. Just breathe. Focus. Breathe. Get out of the shadow world. You’re okay.”

Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists, closing her eyes. “Come on, you can’t have a panic attack as a  _ shadow _ , shadows don’t even  _ need  _ to breathe. Just calm down. You’re okay. Breathe. Breathe.”

Her body very slowly started shifting back to normal, and with that came the usual lightheadedness and nausea from using her magic. She shifted to rested her head against her knees, legs pulled up to her chest, which she tried to recover.

“You’re okay,” she murmured again. “They’re just people. You came here all the time to escape bad weather. You’re fine. You’re  _ fine _ .”

The world had finally come back into focus when Lena lifted her head, her breathing returning to normal. She smiled faintly, pushing herself up. She was okay. She was still a little shaky as she returned to the mall, but it wasn’t quite as overwhelming. She stuck to the edges of the aisles, where it was a little easier to navigate, and she managed to keep her head up as she walked.

She was passing another store when her eye caught sight of something that made her stop dead. She turned to look at the display, a small smile pulling at her lips. And she hurried into the store.

* * *

“Hey, there you are!” Della said happily. She’d already found Webby and Violet; the former was wringing her hands nervously, and perked up when she saw Lena approaching. It was impressive that she kept from tackling her. “Get everything you need?”

“Yeah.” Lena handed the card back, and smiled indulgently when Webby finally gave into her impulse and hugged her tight. The group started to leave, but Lena grabbed Webby’s hand, pulling her back a little. “Hey, I need your help with something when we get home.”

“Huh?” Webby looked surprised, but intrigued. “What’s up?”

“I kind of found a good family present…”

They stopped for hot chocolate and roasted chestnuts at Webby’s insistence, dropped Violet off, and headed back to the manor, where they were immediately shoved toward the stairs by the triplets.

“What’re you—”

“You’re not allowed to see the living room!” Dewey said. Lena struggled to hold her hot chocolate and look toward the room in question. It had been blocked off by a curtain.

“What’re you guys  _ doing _ ?”

“It’s a surprise!” The triplets proclaimed in one voice. Lena resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

“Okay, okay…”

She and Webby retreated into the loft, and Webby immediately turned to give her an eager look. “Well? What’d you get?”

Lena sat on the edge of her bed, pulling the box out of the bigger bag. “It’s a frame for picture collages,” she explained, holding it up for Webby. It was a bunch of smaller frames, all connected by metal bars to make shapes between the picture. Each of the frames had a different design around it, and it had enough for about thirty pictures. “I know it’s kind of silly, but you all are so sentimental, and photos seem like a big deal…”

Webby’s eyes were wide. “That’s an  _ awesome _ idea!” she said happily, bouncing. “Oh, we could decorate the bars too! Lena, this is so cool!”

“So… you’ll help me get pictures?”

“Of course!”

Her enthusiasm was contagious; Lena bit her tongue to keep from laughing.

* * *

“It’s  _ Christmas _ !”

 

The yell from the loft door came  _ far too early _ . The girls had been up until almost three putting the pictures together, and it was — Lena’s bleary eyes sought out the digital clock — six-thirty. She groaned, putting the pillow over her head.

“Go  _ away _ .”

“Five more minutes,” Webby added sleepily. One of the boys — it was impossible to tell which in the utter darkness of the loft — grabbed Lena’s pillow off her head, and in that moment she swore vengeance.

“No more minutes!” Huey declared. “Come on, you gotta get up, it’s Christmas!”

“Is part of the Christmas experience running around like lunatics before sunrise?” Lena asked darkly. “Because I’m happy to skip that part.”

Webby flopped down from her own bed to Lena’s, giving her a nudge. “Nope, they’re right,” she said around a yawn. “It’s Christmas. We gotta do this right.”

“Okay, okay.” Lena crawled out of bed, rubbing her eyes and grabbing the small present she had wrapped after Webby had fallen asleep. “I hate all of you.”

“Nah, you love us,” Louie said cheerfully as he followed his brothers down into the library. They had turned the lights on when they’d come in, and Lena had to squint against them even as she checked her shadow, just out of habit. Normal. Like always. Webby smiled sleepily, grabbing Lena’s arm and hugging her tight.

“Merry Christmas,” she said, yawning again. Lena had to smile.

“Merry Christmas.”

They stopped at Della’s room to drag out the poor, tired duck, and then went downstairs. They’d just gotten to the bottom when Louie jumped on Dewey’s shoulders and wrapped a blindfold around Lena’s eyes. “Hey! What’re you—”

“It’s a surprise.”

“You don’t think you’re going a little overboard with this?”

“Come on Lena, have some Christmas spirit.” A pause. “Wait, that might be a bad choice of words. Are the spirits around this year?”

“Uh… what?”

“Never mind. Webby, you got her?”

Familiar fingers wrapped around Lena’s hand. “Got her!”

“Huey, you got Mom?”

“Yup!”

Webby was the only person Lena would trust to lead her when she couldn’t see. Anyone else would’ve gotten hit. The boys had been smart about that. Lena felt the rustle of fabric as they passed through the curtain, then Dewey spoke.

“Okay, take the blindfolds off in three… two… one!”

Lena dared to lift hers just slightly as the boys, Webby, and several other voices yelled, “Surprise!”

The living room had been completely transformed. Fake snow decorated the floor, the windows, the furniture. Tinsel and lights — both colored and white — had been wound around the entire room, including all up and down the giant Christmas tree they had somehow gotten through the door a few weeks earlier. Lena had declined participating in decorating the monstrosity, but had taken pictures at Webby’s request. The floor beneath the tree was littered with piles of presents, and Christmas music was playing softly in the background. Lena slid the blindfold fully up her face, stunned by the sight before her.

“I feel like I’m in a snowglobe,” was the only thing she could manage to say.

“We might’ve gone a little overboard,” Scrooge said, amused. Lena hadn’t even noticed he was already there, along with Donald, Beakley, and Launchpad. “But the boys were insistent.”

“We have like, eleven years’ worth of Christmases with Mom to make up for,” Dewey said. “And you have  _ fifteen years _ . This isn’t overboard.”

Lena looked down at Webby, who was beaming. “I’m impressed, Pink. You managed to keep all this a secret?”

“It was  _ really _ hard.”

“I think it’s great,” Della said, earning three identically proud grins from her sons. “Come on, let’s do this!”

 

Mrs. Beakley produced fresh cookies and hot chocolate from some hidden corner, distributing the treats as the boys and Webby immediately dove for the presents. Lena sat on the edge, content to just watch. She knew Webby had gotten her something, but she wasn’t expecting much. She looked at the small box in her hand, and slid it into the pile for Webby to find.

“Lena.”

She looked up, surprised, and blinked a few times when she saw Beakley holding a gift to her. “What’s that?” she asked before her brain could catch up with her mouth. Beakley smiled indulgently.

“It’s a present for you.”

Lena took it, still stunned, and stared for a long moment. Whatever it was, it was soft, and flopped in her hand as she stared at it. “Well go on, lass,” Scrooge said after a moment. “It’s not going to unwrap itself.”

“Uh, right, sorry…”

She unwrapped the present very carefully, peeling away the paper to reveal a hand-knitted set of mittens, a scarf, and a hat, all in the same colors as her usual sweatshirt, save for a pink border on each garmet. “I thought maybe you’d be more willing to wear them if they were your usual style,” Beakley said wryly. Lena was still staring, trying to comprehend even as she took the hat and put it on. It was so  _ soft _ .

“It’s great.” Her voice was distant, but sincere. “It’s really… thank you.”

Had Beakley  _ made _ these? When did she have  _ time _ for that? “Oooooh, that’s so cool,” Webby said admirably. “Totally fits you. Here, open mine next!”

Lena took the gift Webby shoved at her, shaking off the remaining surprise. Beakley had made her a present. She certainly hadn’t been expecting that.

Webby’s present was a set of colorful pens and a book with the title “Wreck This Journal” on the cover. “It’s a journal,” Webby explained as Lena flipped through the pages. “But like, there are prompts for you to draw or write or really weird stuff like go outside and find a leaf to glue to this page. Or scribble all over this page without actually drawing anything. I thought it was cool, and it seemed like something you would like, and—”

“I love it,” Lena assured Webby with a smile, and she relaxed. Lena had settled back to flip through the pages of the book, trying to decide where to start, when another present appeared in front of her.

“That’s from us!” Huey spoke up, indicating himself and his brothers as if that needed to be confirmed. Lena set the journal aside to unwrap the gift — a full hair-dye kit complete with tools and several different colors. “We weren’t sure if the pink hair was natural or something you did yourself, but hair dye seems like your thing.”

“It’s natural, but you’re not wrong.” Lena reached up to pull down the lock of pink hair. She’d thought about dyeing it so many times, but Magica would always whine and complain about her wasting time on unnecessary cosmetics. But she wasn’t there anymore. She could do whatever she wanted with her own hair. “Hey, Webby, I could dye your hair, too.”

Webby lit up. “No,” Beakley said firmly, and the duckling deflated. Lena gave her a smile that spoke volumes about how mad Beakley was going to be at them tomorrow morning.

“Before you get too comfortable,” Scrooge said, handing another present over. “Since every present seems to be a shock to you.” Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

It was another book — a driver’s manual, to be specific. “Technically, you’ll be turning sixteen this year. At least according to the legal records that I swear I’m still working on. I thought you might like learning how to drive.”

“Nice!” Louie called. “We won’t have to walk or take the bus everywhere.”

“You’ll have to do better than hair dye to get me to drive you places,” Lena teased. The fact that Scrooge trusted her enough to even consider letting her drive was amazing; she looked back at him, smiling. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

“One more,” Della said, passing another present down the line. It was a box, smaller than the hair dye, and Lena tilted her head as she unwrapped it. It was a pair of  _ very _ nice and probably extremely expensive pair of sound canceling headphones. “The store worker spent like, twenty minutes explaining that you can program them to completely cancel out all sound, or spin the dial on the side to filter in noise. So you can turn off the filter completely and just have music, or you can turn the filter on to hear people talking without actually taking the headphones off.”

The sound canceling was the most important part of that, and they both knew it. Lena turned the box, and was surprised to see a pendant taped to the other side. It was the same shape as her amulet, although smaller, with a concave glass cover and a decorated print inside. There was a faded tree in the background, and written in cursive on over the tree, was two words:  _ Just Breathe _ .

Lena looked up at Della, who gave her a small smile, and she nodded before ducking her head again, tears filling her eyes. “Lena?” Webby frowned, inching closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was thick with tears. “Yeah, I’m fine, I… I…”

For once, she had no words. Webby wrapped her arms around Lena, hugging her tight, and Lena slid one arm around Webby to hold her closer and hide her face in Webby’s shoulder.

“Did we do something wrong?” she heard Huey whisper.

“You did everything right,” Della assured him. “I think she’s a little overwhelmed.”

That was putting it lightly. Lena did her best to collect herself, taking a deep breath  before she pulled away and dragged an arm across her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” she said quickly, carefully detaching the necklace from the box and hooked it around her neck. “Don’t you guys have presents to unwrap?”

Webby squeezed her knee before finding another present. Her eyes landed on the small box from Lena, and she gave her a surprised look. Lena shrugged, fiddling with her pendant. Webby all but tore the paper apart as she unwrapped it, and her eyes lit up when she saw the bracelet charms. “Cute!” she said happily, bouncing. “Wait, what do they say?” She leaned in closer, then laughed, and Lena relaxed, smiling. “C’mere, c’mere!” Webby grabbed her wrist and took her bracelet to attach the “tall friend” charm to it, then took off her own to attach the “short friend” charm.

Lena leaned back while the others finished up the presents, pulling the hat off and just admiring the work that must have been put into it. It was so  _ soft _ , she marveled again as she rubbed it between her fingers. “Wait, there’s one more thing!” Webby piped up, looking back at Lena. Her idea suddenly seemed silly in the wake of all this, but she couldn’t exactly say no now.

“Yeah, hang on.”

The girls hurried up the stairs to retrieve the collage. It was a little awkward getting it down the ladder, and Lena’s anxiety went up a notch with each step. “Pink, this is stupid,” she whispered.

“It’s  _ not _ . Everyone’s going to love it, I promise,” Webby assured her. They got to the bottom of the stairs, and Webby ran ahead to demand everyone close their eyes. When she was assured that they had listened, she ran back to help Lena carry the frame into the living room.

“Okay, open them!”

Lena had nearly curled into herself by this point. They had spent half the night collecting various photos and putting them in the collage while Webby decorated the frame with colorful ribbons and tags with smiley faces and hearts and some descriptions of the photos. The pictures went back as far as Donald’s and Della’s childhood, and progressed from there. Della, Donald, and Scrooge with the eggs, individual and group photos of the boys, pictures of everyone, different combinations of people, like Dewey sitting on Launchpad’s shoulder (with a crashed car in the background), or Webby with her grandmother, the triplets with Scrooge, the triplets, Scrooge, and Webby after returning from an adventure… Webby had even given up two of the few pictures she’d gotten with Lena before the shadow war. One selfie of both of them together, and one of Lena after she’d fallen asleep during one of their sleepovers.

“Oh…” Della was the first to stand, walking over to see it better. “Look at this.”

“Where did you even  _ get _ all these photos?” Dewey asked in wonder as he walked over, and everyone else leaned in to examine it.

“I have my ways,” Webby said cryptically. No one questioned that.

“You forgot one,” Louie said, pointing to a horizontal frame.

“Nope, that’s for a family picture if we ever manage to get all of us in one together.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Scrooge said, adjusting his glasses to examine the collage. “This is impressive work, lasses.”

“It was all Lena’s idea! She found the frame and everything.”

Lena blushed deeply, looking away and rubbing the back of her neck. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s great,” Huey said with a grin.

“You looooooooooooooooove us,” Louie added with a smirk. Lena raised an eyebrow at him. “Aw come on, it’s okay to admit it. We won’t judge you. Yoooooooooou looooooooove — aaaaaaaaah!”

He yelped, tripping over himself as Lena dove at him and chased him out of the room. “We should hang it up in here,” Scrooge said thoughtfully, looking around. “There’s plenty of space.”

A distant yell from another part of the mansion reached their ears. “Should we be worried about that?” Della asked.

“Nah, Lena won’t actually hurt him.”

Louie returned alone, wide-eyed, and went to curl into his brothers as Mrs. Beakley finished hanging the collage. Lena came back a few minutes later with her phone, flopping down and opening the headphones to get them synced with her phone so she could listen to music while the other bustled about. Lying on the floor in front of the fire, with her sweater tucked under her head as a pillow, was surprisingly comfortable, and once she had figured out how the noise filters worked and tuned out all the external noise, she was completely at ease. She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling contently.

“Hey, Lena—” Dewey peeked into the room to call her for dinner, then paused when he saw she was asleep. They  _ had _ woken the girls up pretty early (Webby had explained the whole staying up until three a.m. thing), and she looked pretty relaxed. They’d save her a plate, he decided, pausing just long enough to grab his phone and send a picture to Webby before he went back to the dining room. He wasn’t going to be the one to wake her up when she could see who it was. He’d already risked his life waking her up in the dark when she couldn’t tell which triplet was taking her pillow.


	8. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena learns a new term to describe how broken (she thinks) she is. Yay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No notes, just.... poor Lena.

Lena’s mind and body often forgot that she needed sleep.

There hadn’t been a need to sleep in the Shadow Realm. Sometimes she’d zoned out, tuning out the world, but that wasn’t the same. Even several months later, her subconscious hadn’t connected with the real world quite yet, or with her own body. She wondered if it ever would.

It was two a.m. when she gave up, throwing the blankets back and climbing down the stairs. A snack, maybe. She hadn’t eaten much at dinner… or breakfast… or all day. Beakley fussed about it, and Lena had insisted she was fine, she had just snacked a lot. Which was a lie. She just wasn’t hungry. Or she didn’t realize it. Which meant she was probably starving herself and just didn’t feel it. Again.

She’d been expecting the kitchen to be empty, and was surprised to see two figures sitting at the island counter, talking in low voices, illuminated by the moonlight and a soft light overhead. Lena almost immediately backed out, but the door had creaked, and one of the figures turned around. Della. Della and Donald.

“Oh, hey Lena.” 

“Sorry,” Lena said, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“It’s a public space,” Donald said — she was pretty sure that was what he said anyways. Even his own nephews could barely understand him half the time.

“It’s a bit late, though,” Della added, frowning.

“Woke up hungry.” Lena shrugged it off, walking into the kitchen and going to the cabinet where Beakley thought she hid all the junk food. “So, how come you can speak normal, and you sound like a broken rubber duck?” she asked, trying to infuse her voice with her usual lack of shame, as she found a small cake treat, unwrapping it and taking a bite. It didn’t have much of a taste.

Della laughed while Donald mumbled bitterly. “Genetics.” Della patted her brother’s shoulder. “It’s not so bad once you get to know him.”

“Um… sure.”

A cloud drifted in front of the moon, blocking out the light filtering in through the kitchen window, and Lena relaxed a little, taking another bite of her snack. “Anyways, what happened  _ here _ ?” Della asked, tapping something on the counter. A book, Lena realized. No, a photo album.

“The houseboat broke down and they swore on their lives they could fix it. I don’t know why I fell for that.”

“You  _ believed _ them? I’m surprised the thing didn’t blow up sooner.”

“I was  _ teaching _ them! I thought they just wanted to show off.”

“And instead they set the engine on fire. Is that Louie’s sweatshirt?”

“He used it to smother the flames.”

Della shook her head slowly, sighing. “How did you keep them  _ alive _ for so long?”

“Well, it’s not like they’re any safer  _ here _ .”

Lena leaned back against the cabinet, munching on her snack and half listening to the siblings as they argued. The cloud drifted, the moonlight peeking back out, catching the houseboat and casting its shadow through the glass door; it crept up the wall at an odd angle, catching Lena’s eye, and she looked up without thinking.

The last of her cake slipped from her hand, and she backed up automatically, forgetting she was already leaning against the cabinet.

Shadows bothered her. Distorted, tall shadows that towered over her? They were what broke her.

Ice-cold hands wrapped around her throat, constricting her airway. Her entire body was numb, save for the ache in her chest. Her knees shook and gave out; she was trembling as her full weight fell onto the door.

Donald heard the light thump, and his eyes flickered to look passed Della. Lena was staring at…  _ something _ . Her pupils had shrunk to small pinpoints, and she was using the cabinet to hold herself up as she hyperventilated.

“Lena?” he questioned uncertainly. Della looked up, then stiffened.

“Lena, hey.” She slid off the stool, approaching carefully. “Lena, what’s wrong?”

The teen did  _ not _ hear her.

What she did hear were the vicious whispers of her aunt, right in her ear.  _ Useless. Fake. Can’t even get a stupid dime. What good are you _ .

She didn’t see the siblings trying to approach her. She saw the shadow looming over her, the red eyes that haunted her nightmares now staring down at her in disgust.  _ You’re not  _ real _. You’re just playing house. You’re using them. They’ll never trust you. They’ll never love you. You’ll never belong here. _

“Wait.” Donald grabbed Della’s arm before she could touch Lena. “Look at her.”

Della frowned, but did as she was told. And she realized that this didn’t look like the last panic attack she’d seen Lena having. Her expression frozen in fear, staring straight ahead, her breath coming out in small, uncertain gasps.

“Flashback?”

Donald nodded. Della took a step back, carefully kneeling to put herself beneath Lena. She had learned a lot helping Donald through his own issues.

“Lena?” she called gently. “Lena, can you hear me?”

The voice barely broke through the shadows that had wrapped around Lena’s mind, where Magica was still harassing her.  _ You’re a failure, you’ll never be free, you _ —

“Lena, hey, focus on me. Look at me, kiddo. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, or let anything hurt you, I promise.”

_ They’ll never accept you _ —

“It’s okay to be scared,” Donald spoke up in a soft voice. “But what you’re seeing and hearing isn’t real if it’s not us.”

A violent shudder ran through Lena as her eyes tried to focus, her breathing hitching up. “I…” She patted herself down anxiously, then felt for the cabinet behind her, the counter, anything she could reach. “I… I can’t f-feel…”

Della looked at Donald, and he turned for the sink. “Come on, hon, sit down.” She gently helped Lena slide to the ground while Donald wet a cloth, returning to kneel with them. “Just focus on breathing, okay?”

“May I?” Donald added, holding up the cloth. Lena nodded shakily, and was almost relieved when she felt the icy cold cloth against her sweaty cheeks.

“I-I… I… she…”

“It was a flashback,” Della assured her. “She’s not here. You were just hearing things she said to you before. She isn’t here.”

Donald gently swept Lena’s hair back as he continued his work. “I could  _ hear _ her…”

“Your mind is really good at tricking you. It’s okay.” Della squeezed her knee. “Do you think you can stand?” Lena shook her head. Her legs still felt numb. “Okay. Tea or hot cocoa?”

Lena looked up, trying to smile. “Coffee?”

“Cocoa it is.” Della stood and went to put on the kettle. Donald snickered, settling to sit next to Lena. The teen drew her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees. She was surprised, but too tired to react, when Donald started rubbing her back.

“You know this doesn’t make you weak, right?” he asked. Lena was more or less sure about that.

“Yeah.” She chuckled humorlessly. “I’m scared of  _ shadows _ .”

“I’m afraid of loud noises.”

Lena tilted her head to look at Donald out of the corner of her eye. “I find that hard to believe, living here. Your nephews are basically one continuous loud noise.”

Donald chuckled. “Not that kind of loud noise. Explosions, mostly. Like fireworks. It’s not as bad as it used to be.”

Lena hesitated, shifting uncomfortably, before daring to ask, “Why?”

“I was in the Coast Guard years ago. Long before the boys.”

“Knucklehead signed up the minute he turned eighteen,” Della added from the stove. The kettle started whistling, and she put it on another burner to cool slightly. “Uncle Scrooge threatened to write him out of the will.”

“Ah, he ain’t the boss of me.” Donald waved Della off. “I was deployed to a war zone, and well…” He shrugged. Della poured the water into two mugs, added the hot chocolate powder, and came back to sit with them, handing one to Lena. It was almost burning in her hands. But she could feel it.

“It’s called PTSD,” she told Lena gently. “Have you heard of it?” Lena shook her head. “Basically, when someone goes through something extremely traumatic, it… kind of leaves a mark on your mind. Like a scar. You try to move on from it, but it’s so easy for you to be dragged back into it and relive all those memories. Things that sound like explosions set Donald off—”

“It’s gotten better.”

“I know. But back when you first came home, it was bad.” Donald grumbled under his breath. Lena sipped her cocoa slowly. It was scalding hot. But she could feel it.

“I’ve never been in a war.”

The look Della gave her called her out for her feigned ignorance before she even spoke. “There are a  _ lot _ of causes for it, sweetie. Anything traumatic can stay with you.”

“Like being stuck on the moon for ten years,” Donald said pointedly. Della rolled her eyes, sipping her own drink.

“I’m telling you Donnie, it’s not PTSD. And I’m not having this conversation right now.” Donald glowered at her. “Back on track, I was trying to make a point.”

“I… get what you’re getting at,” Lena said quickly. “I don’t have… that. I mean, it’s not like anything that bad has happened to me.”

It was eerie, how much they looked alike when they gave her a look of pure disbelief. “Lena, sweetie,” Dell said slowly. “I don’t want to offend you, but… you’re almost a poster child for PTSD. I’m not a therapist, don’t get me wrong, but you’ve been through a lot. You essentially died twice. You were trapped and isolated in a lonely world for months. You were abused by Magica. Do you want me to go on?”

Lena kept her head down, staring at her mug. “What’s your point?” she finally asked quietly.

“Well, I have two. The first is that you don’t have to be ashamed of feeling bad, or of being scared of something you think is silly. The second is that having a way of describing what’s wrong helps a  _ lot _ .  Being able to say ‘this is what’s wrong’ can change everything. You’re not broken. You’re just hurt. And you don’t have to deal with that alone.”

“Right.” Donald rested a hand on Lena’s shoulder. “We can help. If you let us.”

Lena’s fingers tightened around her mug, and she nodded slowly, taking the first steady breath she had managed since… well, since the flashback. “I… I don’t know. I mean, yeah, I know I’m messed up, but…”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” Della assured. “We just want you to know we’re here to help.”

Lena met her gaze, then looked at Donald, and smiled weakly. “Thanks.”

“Any time.” Della ruffled Lena’s hair, giving her a gentle smile. “Come on, look at embarrassing pictures of the boys with us.”

That actually sounded fun. Donald stood, helping Lena up, and she followed them back to the counter, finishing her hot chocolate. Eventually her eyelids began to droop, and before long she was putting her head in her arms and falling asleep.

“Wow, I didn’t know your voice was so soothing,” Della teased her brother, who scowled at her.

“I read the boys to sleep every night, thank you very much.”

Beakley walked into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow at the trio, her expression settling on the sleeping teen. “What in the world…?”

“Long story.” Della slid off her stool. “Do you think you can move her to the couch? She’s a bit too tall for us.”

“Of course.” Beakley easily and gently scooped Lena up. She didn’t even budge. “She must be exhausted.”

“Something tells me she hasn’t been sleeping.”

Beakley settled Lena on the couch, covering her. It was rare to see her so peaceful. But she deserved it. And Beakley would make sure it stayed quiet in the manor for however long Lena slept.

Even if it meant taping some beaks shut.


	9. Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena isn't the only one who has nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on this one, I was in California for a friend's birthday over the weekend. Also, despite having roughly 42 stories written, I couldn't decide what to publish because they all seemed like garbage. I am my own worst enemy.

_ She was frozen, on her knees, watching as the energy wrapped around Lena, and she screamed in pain. “Lena!” She tried to reach out, tried to grab the teen before she disappeared…  _

“Webby? Webby!”

The duckling shot up in bed, wide-eyed, and immediately kicked out of reflex. “Whoa!” Lena ducked away, peeking back up when she was sure it was safe. “Jeez, Webs. Are you okay?”

Webby just stared at her for a moment, tears filling her eyes. “Hey, what—”

Lena was cut off by Webby launching herself at the teen, holding her tight. “Webby, wait, ladder—!”

They both tumbled off the ladder; Lena thought fast, grabbing Webby and opening a portal, then another one in quick succession so their fall to the floor was shorter. “Jeez, okay,” Lena said, rubbing Webby’s back and holding her tight. “What’s wrong?”

Webby shook her head, burying her face in Lena’s neck, the tears falling freely. Lena tightened her hold with one arm and moved her other to push them both up, letting Webby curl up in her lap. “Okay, you’re okay,” she murmured, sliding her fingers through Webby’s hair. “Everything’s okay.”

They sat on the floor for a few minutes, bathed in the glow of Lena’s lava lamp. Lena, for all she tried, was terrible with emotions. She did her best, though, holding Webby and playing with her hair, shifting until Webby was safely ensconced between Lena’s chest and her knees. It was nice, and comfortable, and Webby entertained the idea of never moving again.

That was ridiculous, though. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and pulled away, still sniffling. “Hey.” Lena poked her to get her attention, greeting Webby with a small smile when their eyes met. “You okay?”

Webby nodded, trying to force a smile. Lena raised an eyebrow. She was bad at pretending. “Just a bad dream.”

“Huh. I thought that was my thing.” Lena carefully uncurled, letting Webby settle in her lap. “You wanna talk about it?”

No, she really didn’t. But she couldn’t say that after being so insistent that Lena talk about  _ her _ nightmares. “It was just… you. Watching Magica kill you over and over and over and… you get it.”

“Yeah,” Lena said quietly. Webby leaned forward to rest her head on Lena’s shoulder. “Do you have these nightmares a lot?”

“I dunno… what’s a lot? I don’t have them the way you do.”

“I don’t think that’s a good scale for comparison.” Lena gave her a small nudge. “Come on.”

She got them both up, and they sat on the edge of Lena’s bed. “How come you didn’t tell me?”

Webby shrugged, pulling absentmindedly at her bracelet. “It doesn’t seem as important.”

“As important as what? My craziness? Again, not a scale to compare against.” Lena nudged Webby’s shoulder with her own. “We don’t have to take turns being messed up or something. It’s not a competition. We can be messed up at the same time.”

Webby giggled slightly, nudging Lena back and wiping her eyes. “I just want to be happy for you. So you don’t worry.”

“Pink…” Lena sighed. “Where do you think I was every time you sat up here alone crying?” Oh. Right. She’d been living in Webby’s shadow. “I tried not to intrude,”  she continued quickly. “But there wasn’t really anywhere else I could go… and I hated that you were alone. Not that it mattered, you didn’t  _ know _ I was here.”

“It’s kind of nice knowing you were, though,” Webby said quietly, giving Lena a small smile. “Did you… ya know,  _ choose _ to stay with me, or did some magical thing make you?”

Lena shrugged. “I could’ve broken away if I really wanted to, but it was too much work. And hey, who else outside of the family can say they’ve been a real, true, life-or-death McDuck adventure?”

“You’re part of this family, too,” Webby said pointedly.

“Okay, but while I was stuck in the shadow realm.” Lena gave Webby a small squeeze. “Is that all you dream about?”

Webby hesitated. She really didn’t like talking about this — but Lena had been working on talking to Webby more. She was trying. Webby knew she needed to try as well.

“Sometimes you’re just… a ghost. Not a shadow, just ghostly. And you’re angry at me. You blame me because you’re dead.”

“Webs…” Lena sighed. “You know I don’t, right?”

“Yeah. But you were trying to save  _ me _ . If you had just stayed hidden you could have…”

“Spent the rest of my life in Magica’s shadow?  _ Literally _ ?” Lena raised an eyebrow. “Come on Pink, you know I don’t do something if I don’t want to. I made a choice. I was already gone, there wasn’t much worse she could’ve done. And  _ someone _ needed to protect you.”

Webby giggled tiredly, leaning against Lena and closing her eyes. “I knew I picked a good friend.”

“I mean… I  _ was _ playing you at first.”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.” Webby knew Lena was probably telling the truth, but it was so hard to believe. Sure, looking back she had been a bit… aloof, but she also clearly didn’t know how to act around other people. Webby could relate a lot to that.

“Are there more?”

“Nightmares? Yeah, a couple,” Webby said honestly, taking a breath. “Do we have to talk about them right now, though?”

“No.” Lena certainly wasn’t one to push boundaries on this kind of thing. “But do you promise to talk to me about them eventually?”

“Does it have to be you? I can just talk to Granny or—”

“Webby.” Lena huffed, pulling back slightly. “We’re friends. You’re supposed to be able to talk to me. And if this is because my problems are  _ worse _ —”

“It just seems silly.”

“Well, it’s silly to compare them!” Lena countered. “Everyone has their own issues, if we spend all of our time comparing we’re all just going to decide they’re not worth talking about because someone else has it worse. And where’s that going to get us? You guys are the ones always telling me that it’s okay to talk and that families are  _ supposed _ to talk. And rules don’t change depending on who you’re talking to.” Webby stared at Lena for a moment, mouth hanging open. “What?”

“That’s just… not something I would’ve expected from you.”

Lena blushed a bit, rubbing the back of her head. “Yeah, well… gotta keep you all on your toes. I don’t want to be  _ predictable _ , that’s boring.  Do you at least get what I’m saying?”

Webby hesitated before nodding slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

“So the next time you have a nightmare or you’re just upset and need to talk about something, you’ll…?”

“Talk to you.”

“And you trust me to know when I have to say talk to someone else I can’t deal right now?” Webby hesitated, shoulders hunching up. “ _ Webigail _ .”

“...” Webby was stunned for a moment. Lena had never used her full name. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“Good.” Lena tugged Webby back in for a hug. Webby curled up, wrapping both her arms tight around Lena and closing her eyes.

“Hey, Lena?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Lena’s arms tightened around Webby, her cheek resting on the top of Webby’s head, and the smile on her face was audible in her voice. “Love you too, Pink. That’s why you gotta talk to me. No secrets, right?”

“Yeah.” Webby sighed, smiling slightly and feeling more relaxed than she had since she’d woken up. “Right.”


	10. A Place To Lay Her Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Webby tries to make her room *their* room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Anyone else catch the SDCC trailer? Anyone else freaking out over the insane amount of Lena/Magica stuff? No? Yes? Am I having trouble breathing? Maybe a little.
> 
> (seriously holy omg I am DYING I need to talk about all the things, I have a Lena-dedicated Tumblr if anyone wants to check that out and see my incoherent thoughts - lenasmagic.)

“You guys know this place is  _ huge _ , right?” Louie said as he watched Webby and Lena disassemble Webby’s bedframe. “Scrooge could fit all of Duckburg in here.”

“You guys share a room,” Webby pointed out.

“Well, yeah, that’s a—”

“A thing?” Lena teased with a sly smile. “Like the color-coding and the names? You’re all the same?”

“Definitely not!” All three boys spoke at the same time, of course. Webby laughed, flopping down on her mattress.

“It’s more fun to share a room! It’s like a sleepover all the time!” Left unmentioned were Lena’s near-constant nightmares. If they were all honest, no one wanted her alone in her own room quite yet. “Besides we’re getting  _ bunk beds _ just like you guys!” She grabbed her phone to look up the bunk bed set they’d talked Scrooge into getting them. “Look how cool it is!” It was a gray-framed bunk set with one bed horizontal on top, another bed jutting out underneath, and a desk with a small bookshelf. They hadn’t  _ talked _ about it quite yet, but they had somehow agreed that Lena got the bottom bunk for hiding from the light and shadows.

“Okay, that’s a pretty cool bunk,” Huey admitted. “Too bad there are three of us…”

“I’m sure arrangements could be made to help with that problem,” Lena said casually, flopping down next to Webby. The triplets gave her a blank-eyed stare.

“I never know if you’re kidding when you say things like that,” Louie finally said.

“I always just assume she isn’t kidding,” Dewey whispered to his brother. Lena flashed the blue-clad duck a thumbs up.

“Good plan.”

She shot a grin Webby’s way, and Webby laughed, looking around. She hadn’t noticed before, but the room was very…  _ her _ . Of course it was her, it was hers. But it wasn’t just hers anymore.

“Hey Lena?” The teen looked over at Webby with a hum. “Do you… ya know, have anything you want to put in the room? Like, I dunno, any stuff?”

The triplets hunched up a bit, exchanging looks. Lena’s smile faded into her usual, neutral look, and she shrugged.

“You saw where I lived. It’s not like I  _ own _ anything.”

“You had a few things. Are you sure there’s nothing you want to go rescue?”

Lena sighed, flopping back. “I guess I should at least get the journal. It’d probably be a bad thing if any of Magica’s evil plans got into the wrong hands.”

“Or any of your poetry.”

Lena’s aim was almost as deadly as Webby’s — she hit Louie square in the face with a pillow without even looking up.

“Now how are we supposed to get this things up the stairs?” Scrooge grumbled, tapping his cane against the giant box.

“Launchpad?” Della guessed. “He seems like a heavy lifter.”

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“Make way, coming through,” Huey called as the group ran down the stairs — well, Huey and Lena ran. Webby, Dewey, and Louie used different techniques of sliding down the handrails.

“Oh, just in time, your bunk bed is—”

“Sorry, we’ve got stuff to do!” They ducked around the adults, heading for the door.

“We’ll be back in a little bit!” Webby added.

“Sorry!” That was Lena, over her shoulder, before they all disappeared.

“What… just happened?” Della asked slowly.

“Children,” Scrooge grumbled. “Children happened.”

Beakley lifted the giant box, carrying it up the stairs.

* * *

Lena’s pathetic little hideout felt even worse after spending so long in the manor. Still, she tried to be confident as she jumped down into the room, looking around. “All right, where is… ah.” She went to get the journal off her bed.

“You know this would make a really cool hideout,” Louie said as he peeked in. “We’re the only ones who know it’s here.”

“Magica knows too,” Lena said, casting a wary glance around the room. “I figured out how to keep her from actually  _ appearing _ in here, so she could never take form, but she knows about it.   
She waved a hand at the blue lightbulb. “Even if she doesn’t have powers, I don’t think I want to be around in case she decides to use it as her own hideout.”

“Yeah, how does that work anyways?” Huey popped in as well, watching as Lena looked around the room. “‘Cause you  _ do _ have some magic, right?”

“I have no idea. I guess?” Lena shrugged, handing the journal to the boys while she looked. “When Webby and Violet were messing around with magic, Magica’s amulet — well,  _ my _ amulet, technically — flew into my shadow form and I haven’t seen it since, so I’m  _ guessing _ that’s how I still have a physical form.”

“So  _ you _ don’t know how any of this works either?” Dewey joined his brothers.

“Of course I don’t, I’m just the puppet. Hey, Webby, do you think the loft would look good with a lava lamp?”

“Oooh, yes!”

Lena turned off the lamp, passing it over. “Make yourselves useful if you’re going bug me, boys.”

“Don’t blame us for our natural curiosity.” Dewey grabbed the lamp, handing it to Webby. “So can you like, cast spells, or is it just the moving things with your mind thing, or…?”

Lena rolled her eyes before closing them. The boys’ mouths dropped when a blue highlight formed around her body. “What’s going on?” Webby looked in, wide-eyed. “Whoooooooooa.”

Lena’s eyes were glowing as she opened them again, and she reached out. Blue energy encased the pillow, and it lifted itself into the air. All four ducklings gaped. The pillow only stayed airborne for a few moments before Lena gasped, dropping to her knees and losing her concentration.

“Lena!” Webby yelped, flipping down into the room and hurrying to Lena, who was cradling her head in her hand.

“Ugh…” Lena groaned, pushing herself up shakily with Webby’s help. “I could do more before. I lifted a train and moved your grandmother at the same time when we were stuck in those tunnels. My head was killing me after, but I did it.”

“You did all that crazy stuff the night we had the sleepover,” Huey pointed out.

“Yeah, and I need Beakley to  _ carry  _ me to bed after. No thanks. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Webby nodded slowly, and the boys moved so she could climb out. Lena started to follow, then paused, looking back at the single hanging light with the bluelight bulb. She stared at it for a long moment before reaching up to unscrew the lightbulb and throwing it at the wall. 

“Lena?” Webby looked back in, her form silhouetted by the sunlight outside, but Lena could still hear the frown in her voice.

“Just in case Magica  _ does _ decide to use the place. I don’t have to make it easy for her.”

* * *

“And… tada!”

Webby had closed the loft curtains (completely light-blocking — Lena not seeing her shadow first thing in the morning was better than the alternative) and turned on the lava lamp, casting the room in a reddish-purple color. Everyone oooooh-ed and aaaaaaaah-ed appropriately (how the entire household fit in the loft, Lena would never know).

“I didn’t know lava lamps were still in style,” Della said as she watched the goo move around in the lamp.

“I found it at an arcade.” Lena shrugged. “Thought it looked cool, so I stole it.” She caught Beakley giving her a look and shrugged. “Stealing is basically how I got  _ everything _ .”

“There’ll be no more of that,” Scrooge said firmly. “I don’t need any more phone calls about children being picked up for shoplifting.”

“It happened  _ once _ ,” Della said with a huff. “And it was totally Donald’s idea.”   


“Ooooooooh Mom and Uncle Donald were delinquents,” Louie said with a smirk.

“Must be where you get it from.”

Webby joined Lena on her newly built bed, flopping beside her. The way the red blobs moved around in the liquid was so relaxing. It was almost hypnotizing to watch.  “I can see why you like the lamp so much. It’s comforting.”

“It is,” Lena agreed, closing her eyes.

“So…” Dewey said slowly. “Was  _ all _ the magic stuff around here really because of you?”

“I mean, I didn’t bring the ghost butler back. That was all you guys.”

“No, it was the Beagle Boys. But like, the money shark. That was you, right?”

“What  _ is _ a money shark?” Della added in addition to Dewey’s question. Scrooge grumbled under his breath, covering his eyes.

“It was some kind of cursed gem — I just got it for her, I have no idea what it was called, exactly. Anyways it was enchanted to go after the dime, because it had Magica’s energy in it, and for  _ some reason _ she thought the stupid dime would be in the money bin.”

“Oi,” Scrooge rebuked her. “It’s not stupid.”

“You have no idea how miserable she made my life trying to get that thing. I get to call it stupid for at least a year. Anyways, the gem kept collecting coins and getting bigger the longer it took to find the dime. She  _ didn’t _ tell me about that part.” The teen took a deep breath before putting on a high-pitched, poor imitation of Magica’s voice. “Oh you’re so dramatic Lena, it’s not going to eat you, it  _ probably _ won’t kill you, it’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine, Lena.”

“That was  _ not _ a well thought-out plan,” Huey said with a grimace.

“Yeah, I don’t know if you noticed, but  _ ideas _ weren’t her strong suit.”

“Good thing for us.”

They fell silent again, and Lena slowly drifted in and out of sleep for a moment before succumbing to unconsciousness, still holding her pillow and lying on her stomach. Webby eventually fell asleep as well; Mrs. Beakley lifted her into her bed and tucked her in while Della gently put a blanket over Lena, and Scrooge shooed the boys back downstairs. They left the lava lamp on, thinking it might help Lena if — or, more likely, when — the nightmares woke her up.

Which is exactly what happened several hours later. Lena shot up with a gasp, head snapping back and forth as she took in her surroundings, softened by the red light of the lamp.

“Lena?” She looked up to see Webby looking over the edge of her bed. God she hated that sadness in the girl’s eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Lena curled in slightly on herself. “Bad dream.”

Webby watched her for a moment, hesitating. “What do you dream about?” she asked finally, hesitant. It was an unspoken rule that they didn’t talk about these things. But after nearly a month of nightmares every single night, it was clear the don’t talk about it strategy wasn’t working.

Lena sighed, waving for Webby to join her, and Webby immediately jumped down, crossing her legs. “It’s different every night,” she started slowly, “but it’s basically the same couple of things every night.” Webby waited silently. A first for her, Lena thought fondly. “The worst one is… is that I’m alone. Well, I’m with Magica. And you’re all there, telling me how horrible I am, and how everything is my fault. Then there’s another one where Scrooge is just trapped in the dime forever and the rest of you are…” She hesitated, then shook her head. “I don’t want to think too much about it. But I’m still Magica’s puppet. Sometimes she’s still connected to me, and she uses me to get back in here and hurt everyone. Sometimes…”

She hesitated, her voice drifting off. “What?” Webby finally prompted, unable to help herself. She had stayed quiet for impressively long. 

“Sometimes I’m still trapped in the shadow world, watching you. I take back what I said about the first dream — those ones are the worst. I’m just… trapped, following you forever while you forget about me.” Lena curled up tighter, resting her chin on her knees. “You just give up and move on and I… I hate myself most for those ones.”

“Wait, what?” Webby frowned. “Why?”

“Because they’re selfish.  _ I’m _ selfish for wanting you to hold on to me. I thought I was trapped in the shadow world. I followed you to the library every week and watched you go through books and told you over and over to let it go and stop messing with magic. But the first second I saw that happening, I turned into a completely cliche evil spirit and nearly got you killed.”

“It’s not selfish that you wanted to be remembered,” Webby said quietly.

“But I keep hurting you. Even when I was trying to protect you, I hurt you.”

“But you didn’t hurt me,” Webby insisted. “And you gave me the best thing I ever could have asked for — I got my best friend back. That’s worth any danger.”

Lena finally looked up, giving Webby a small smile. “Is it?”

“Absolutely.” Webby didn’t even hesitate. “I’d fight a million evil jealous ghost spirits if it meant getting you back.”

“Weeeeeeeeeeell, not to get too technical, but Violet and I were the ones who did all the fighting…”

Webby giggled, throwing herself at Lena and hugging her tight. Lena returned the hug, the tension draining out of her. She never realized how much she needed this comfort until Webby hugged her.

“Nobody’s going to let her hurt you again,” Webby said, pulling back to meet Lena’s gaze and giving her a determined smile. “You know that, right?”

Lena hesitated. “I… I know you’ll all try to protect me,” she said quietly, drawing her legs up. “But you can’t promise she’ll  _ never _ hurt me.”

“True,” Webby admitted, frowning. “But she has to fight everyone else first. If she can get through Granny, Uncle Scrooge, Della, the boys,  _ and _ me—”

“Then she’s probably earned the right to kill me.” Lena laughed humorlessly. “Sorry, I know it’s not funny.”

Dark humor was just how she dealt with things. She sighed, falling back to rest her head on her pillow, staring at the bunk above her. Webby flopped down with her, tucking into her side.

“She has to go through  _ me _ to get to you,” the younger duck said quietly. “And I’d like to see her try.”

“Honestly?” Lena smirked a bit. “So would I. You’d flatten her.”

“Like a pancake,” Webby agreed, holding up a fist. “Magic or not, I can take her. Just watch me.”

“I wouldn’t want to take you on.” Lena ruffled her hair, grinning. “Evil sorceresses have nothing on future superspies.”

“You know it.”


	11. Campfire Stories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Camping isn't really all that impressive.

“I still don’t understand why we can’t just use a lighter.”

“Because," Huey huffed as he worked fervently on making a fire, “it’s more authentic this way.”

“Authen — we’re sitting in the backyard of a  _ mansion _ with a pool that has a  _ boat _ in it,” Lena said in disbelief. “I don’t think a  _ lighter _ is what’s going to ruin the authenticity.”

“Pick your battles, Lena,” Louie said through a mouthful of marshmallows. “Just let him have this.”

“Stop eating the marshmallows!” Huey and Dewey snapped at the same time. Louie grumbled and handed the bag over. While they were distracted, Lena snatched a candy bar from the pile and opened it, breaking off half for Webby.

“Hey!”

“Get the fire going and we’ll stop eating the supplies.”

A bit of smoke finally started to form under the stick Huey was furiously twirling against a piece of wood. “Ha! See? Worth the wait.”

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaah, watching you play with sticks for ten minutes was so much more fun than having a fire and already eating.”

Huey glared at her. Dewey coughed to cover a laugh, and Louie snickered. 

“So this is really something you guys do for fun?” Lena asked, looking around their makeshift campsite, with two tents, and fire in the middle.

“Well it’s  _ more _ fun in the real woods,” Huey said, “but Uncle Scrooge said we’re not allowed to go alone because we keep bringing home wild animals.”

“ _ We _ ?”

“Fine,  _ me _ .”

Webby’s phone dinged, and she got it out of her bag, checking the message and sighing. “Violet says she can’t come. Family stuff.”

“We can do this again another day,” Huey said brightly.

“With a lighter, maybe.”

Huey ignored Lena, touching a small ember to his wood teepee. Lena looked at Webby out of the corner of her eye, giving her a half smile, and waved her hand slightly. Huey yelped as a fire roared to life, falling back.

“Lenaaaaa!”

“Honestly, just be glad I didn’t accidentally blow it up,” Lena said with a shrug. The others laughed, grabbing sticks to start roasting their marshmallows.

“Uncle Scrooge says magic is a shortcut for hard work,” Huey grumbled, sitting up.

“And he’s absolutely right,” Lena said brightly. “But shortcuts are good when you’ve spent your life homeless. Magic, shoplifting, and pocket picking.”

“I want to know  _ everything _ about your life,” Louie said in awe. 

“ _ Please _ don’t give him any ideas.” Huey rolled his eyes. “Uncle Donald’s been saying for years he doesn’t have the money to put up for bail.”

“Yeah, but now we’ve got Uncle  _ Scrooge, _ too.”

“You think  _ he’ll _ bail you out? He’d leave you there just to teach you a lesson.”

Louie thought about that for a moment. “You’re probably right,” he finally conceded. “So have you ever been arrested?”

“Yeah, probably four times, I think? Or five. I used different last names for all of them, though.”

None of them could tell if she was kidding. They decided against asking.

They put together their s’mores, eating and burning the top of their mouths. Lena definitely preferred just eating the chocolate. She grabbed another bar while the others tried to speak through mouthfuls of gushy, sugary insanity.

“Hot, hot, hot, hot,” Webby was saying, waving her hand in front of her mouth. Lena shook her head, laughing.

“How is this  _ fun _ ?”

“It tastes good!”

“Insane. All of you.” Lena broke her chocolate apart, humming.

“And yet you  _ choose _ to live here.”

“I mean, yeah, it’s a mansion. It’s not the mansion’s fault that it has crazy people living in it.”

“You hang  _ out _ with us.”

“It’s you guys or Beakley.”

“Granny’s a lot of fun when she wants to be,” Webby piped up. “Our training sessions are always great.” Everyone gave her a disbelieving look. “What?”

“Pink, we’ve seen what you can do. I don’t think anything that turns you into  _ that _ is fun.”

* * *

One would think, given how often darkness featured in her nightmares, that the dark would scare Lena more than the light. And while darkness sometimes unsettled her, it was nothing compared to being in the light and seeing her shadow.

Still, it was slightly disorienting to shoot up in her sleeping bag and not recognize the darkness she usually woke up in. She took a couple of deep breaths, running her fingers through her hair, and looked at Webby. Still asleep. Good. She deserved it. 

Lena wiggled out of her sleeping bag. She needed air. She was as quiet as possible unzipping the tent and stepping out, take a deep breath.

“You talk in your sleep, you know.”

She jumped, turning to see Louie sitting on a tree stump near their firepit. “What?”

“You were muttering in your sleep. Nothing terrible. Just Aunt Magica and no over and over.”

“Oh.” Lena wrapped her arms around herself. “Webby’s never mentioned that. Did I wake you up?”

“Nah, Dewey punched me in his sleep. Every time I say I’m never sleeping next to him again and every time I end up in the middle because Huey grabs the other side of the tent.” Louie rolled his eyes. “Seriously, next time he can take the punch.”

Lena smiled a bit, walking over to sit on the log in front of the fire pit. “I’m surprised you don’t just make him sleep outside.”

Louie shrugged. “I always get him back for it. I had a good gig going for a where I got him to do my laundry for me.”

He was unusually quiet and pensive, Lena thought, leaning forward to settle her elbows on her knees. “Hey, during that whole thing with Magica at the bin…Dewey said you saved him and Webby.”

Lena blinked, surprise. “Yeah… I guess I did. A lot of good it was, just got myself disintegrated.”

“Yeah, but they would’ve been toast if you hadn’t pulled your magic thing. Not that, you know, I wanted Magica to zap you, but… you know.”

“At least I got a noble death,” Lena said proudly. “There are worse ways to go.”

“You got a big hero death and a redemption arc all at once. There’s no better way.”

They both chuckled before Louie got serious again. “I was pretty mad at you when we found your journal,” he said slowly. “I felt bad for being angry after… everything. I mean, you were supposed to be cool, then it turns out you’re just some shadow spy, then you sacrifice yourself to save Webby and Dewey… how is someone supposed to feel after that?”

Lena was quiet, letting Louie work out his thoughts. He waved his hands for a moment before sighing. “Why didn’t you just tell us? I mean, I know it was whatever, you were just playing us at first, but you cared enough to try and help Scrooge, save Webby and Dewey, and stay in Webby’s shadow for six months. You could’ve just… told us when you had the change of heart or whatever.”

Lena turned the words over in her head. “I tried,” she said finally.  Louie looked up, surprised. “It just happened too late. I knew after the money bin thing — ya know, the shark — that I was done with Magica. I tried to walk away and she stopped me. Literally. She was controlling me from my shadow.” Lena shuddered, running her hands through her hair. “She was holding my freedom over my head. I knew she wasn’t ever going to let me go, but I just… had to believe that maybe she’d have pity if I did what she wanted. Did Webby tell you about the other bin?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s this huge underground room that kind of looks like a jail. Scrooge keeps all the dangerous stuff down there.”

“Then what the heck does he call the stuff in his garage?”

Lena coughed, trying to cover a laugh. “Family bonding tools?”

Loue snickered. “Anyways, other bin.”

“Yeah, so Magica heard Scrooge saying he was putting his dime in the other bin because something strange was going on in the manor. I still don’t know  _ what _ he thought was happening.”

“Wait, that might have been the day with Huey’s stupid Bigfoot.”

“I… will ask about that later.”

“Don’t ask Huey or Dewey, they don’t know the whole story.”

Lena wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know. “The dime was in the other bin, and I…  _ convinced _ Webby that it would be a fun adventure to explore this huge part of the house that she’s never seen before. It was pretty easy to talk her into it. We didn’t find the dime, obviously, but I uh…”

She swallowed, taking a deep breath. She hadn’t told anyone about this particular thing yet, not even Webby. Louie was patient, thankfully. “So there’s this… dreamcatcher thing, I don’t know, ask Webby about it some time, she has the entire history written down somewhere. But it traps you in your worst nightmare. We found  _ that _ room and it got me, and I thought it was the dime room. Magica…  _ escaped _ , and Webby broke into the room with a diamond dagger—”

“Wait, is the diamond dagger real?”

“Actually, yes. I was  _ trying _ to use it to cut the dime off of Scrooge’s neck while he slept.” Louie raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t my idea, trust me. Magica told Webby the truth about me — sort of. The truth that doesn’t involve me not being a real person. And when Webby tried to run, Magica turned her into a… little stuffed doll, and started using her as a puppet to attack me because I wouldn’t give her the dime, and the Webby doll was yelling at me and calling me a monster just like Magica and…”

Lena hadn’t realized she was holding her head in her hands until something gently nudged her shoulder; she looked up, surprised. Louie had moved to sit next to her, his eyes fixed on the ground. She took a minute to catch her breath and steady herself before moving on.

“Anyways, it was just a dream, obviously, I woke up, and Webby was fine. But it made me think. Before any of this, my worst nightmare was being stuck with Magica forever. Then it turned into Webby hating me and getting hurt because of me.

“So I told Webby I was done with this whole thing, and Scrooge caught us as we were leaving. The dime was in the first room, by the way.”

“Seriously?”

“No one ever looks in the first room.” Lena sighed. “I tried to tell him. I tried, I swear, I wanted to, but she… Magica was desperate to stop me, and she realized she could control more than my feet. She stopped me from telling Scrooge and made up some excuse about me having to leave, then she just… took over.”

“What do you mean?”

“She um… her shadow went into my body, pretty much. Shoved me into a corner while she took us for a ride. She pretended to be me to get into the manor, and it was after you all had left so she made up some story about Webby saying he couldn’t hack it alone and, ego, you know.”

“He let you in.” Louie sighed. “Amateur. Could you… I mean, did you still know what was going on?”

“Yeah, I could see everything. I kind of took back control a couple of times — nothing that made any difference. She was stronger than me. She always won. But I tried. I swear, I tried. I was… just too late.”

If she thought too much about it she could still feel her muscles locking up as Magica took control, still feel her invading every single part of her body while she tried uselessly to fight back…

“Okay.”

Louie snapped Lena out of her thoughts again; she looked over, surprised. “Okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

Lena felt like she had made a breakthrough, even if she couldn’t tell exactly what it was. She looked at him for a moment before saying, “Wanna hear about getting arrested?”

Louie perked up. “Yeah!”

Huey and Dewey were  _ not _ amused when they stepped out of their tent around dawn and heard Lena saying, “The  _ fourth time _ I was picked up for stealing a  _ candy bar _ — seriously, that town was the worst…”


	12. Trying To Understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Webby tries.

It was amazing how Webby and Lena knocked on Della’s door more than her own sons.

That was partially because the boys just barged in, but even then, the girls still visited more. The boys were used to doing things on their own, or going to Scrooge or Donald for help, and their problems weren’t always something Della understood.

A deeply traumatized teenager and her confused but well-meaning best friend who just wanted to help? Della understood that. Which said something about all of their lives.

This time it was Webby, rocking back and forth on her feet, looking nervous. “Hey Webs. What’s up?”

“I, um… are you busy?”

“Not particularly. Is everything okay?”  _ Where’s Lena _ didn’t need to be said. The girls were almost always together.

“Yeah. Lena’s still sleeping. She was up kind of late.” Translation: nightmares. Della sighed inwardly.

“Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s a nice day.”

Webby brightened up a bit, nodding to the idea, and they headed down the hall together. “So?” Della prompted.

“Well, um… Lena told me she talked to you and Donald about the… problems she’s been having.”  It was obvious she didn’t really know how to talk about this.

“Did she mention PTSD?”

Sometimes it was best to be blunt. Webby looked relieved. “Yeah. She said she thought you guys were just overreacting, but I looked it up and…”

“Sounds a lot like what she’s going through, right?” Webby nodded. “I’m not surprised. It was hard for Donnie to admit he had problems, too. It’s hard for people to admit when they think they have a weakness. Lena seems particularly stubborn.”

“Oh, she is.” Webby giggled a bit before sobering up. “I guess she couldn’t really be weak with Magica.”

They stepped outside, and Della stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath and letting her eyes adjust to the sunlight. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever get used to the sun or actual air ever again. But she would never take it for granted either. “I can’t even imagine what that was like for her.”

“I saw Magica for like twenty minutes and she was the  _ worst _ ,” Webby said.

And something told Della she had never shown an ounce of kindness or sympathy to Lena in fifteen years. Della couldn’t imagine going that long without Scrooge or Donald at Lena’s age. Ten years by herself had been maddening. Throwing in abuse would have put her over the edge. “There’s a lot for her to unpack.”

Webby tangled her fingers together, frowning and looking  at the ground as they walked along. “Do you… really think Lena has PTSD?”

“I’d be surprised if she doesn’t,” Della said honestly. “There’s no way to prove it, of course. There isn’t really a test… I mean, that’s not right. Hm.” She tapped her chin for a moment, trying to think. “It’s not like going to the doctor because you’re sick and them definitely being able to tell you that you have the flu. Therapists have tests and screenings, but at the end of the day it’s really about her symptoms. And I doubt she’ll go to therapy — I had to tie Donald up and carry him to the car. Something tells me that wouldn’t quite work for Lena.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t like feeling trapped.” Webby kicked at a rock. “Sometimes she wakes up and the blanket is all wrapped around her because she moves in her sleep, and she just…”

“Freaks out?” Webby nodded. “How are  _ you _ handling all this?” The poor girl was only fourteen. This was a lot to drop on her.

“I’m fine,” Webby said quickly. “I don’t mind.”

“Sweetie,” Della said with a small smile, “if you want to take care of someone, you have to practice what you preach.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Lena’s going to call you out on being a hypocrite if you try to take care of her without taking care of yourself.”

Webby frowned, looking at the ground. “Yeah, she would.” Della tilted her head, waiting for the girl to collect her thoughts. “Honestly? I’m scared sometimes. Not of Lena or anything. I’m worried about her. But sometimes she wakes up and it’s like she’s not even really there. She’s not screaming or freaking out, she’s just… really still, staring at nothing, all blank. Like she’s empty. She goes back to sleep, and she won’t talk about it in the morning. I don’t know what she’s dreaming about. What’s scarier than the things she wakes up screaming about?”

Della sighed, resting a hand on Webby’s head. “I don’t know,” she said. “She’s never talked to me about her nightmares, either. I can’t imagine what that must be like for you.”

“She tries to talk to me. Sometimes it feels like she just… can’t. Like Magica is still keeping her silent.”

“Maybe she is. Not, you know, literally, but, like… hmn.” Della paused to think again. “Like… rules. Beakley sets rules, and you never break them, right? Even if she’s not around, you still follow the rules.” Webby nodded. “Lena was under Magica’s thumb for a long time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she feels like she still has to stay quiet, even without Magica around.”

Webby sighed, crestfallen. “Sometimes it feels like we haven’t done anything to help her at all.”

“Hey.” Della stopped Webby, kneeling so they were eye to eye. “You remember that sleepover, right? When her magic went haywire and she destroyed half the east wing?” Webby nodded. “That was the first time any of us stopped to think she might not be as okay as she was pretending to be. And I know sometimes it seems like nothing’s gotten better from there, but the fact that she’s letting us see that she’s not okay is  _ so _ important. She’s gotten better at processing things and  _ talking _ to us. You said she was up all night last night. Do you think she would have let you see that weakness six months ago?”

“No,” Webby said slowly.

“That’s progress. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but getting her to open up is a  _ big _ step. Don’t take that for granted. It is  _ hard _ to see someone you care about upset when you know there’s nothing you can do about it. I could beat up people who picked on Donald all day long. But I couldn’t do anything when the problems were in his head and it…” Della took a deep breath, trying to think of the words before finally just giving up on finesse, “it  _ sucked _ . Getting him to talk to me about  _ anything _ was impossible. And it made the times when he  _ did _ talk really, really important. It took him years to get back to a place where he felt like he could be himself. And I wasn’t alone taking care of him. Uncle Scrooge was  _ terrible _ at it, but he tried. And you’re not alone either. You’ve got…” She paused, tilting her head and trying to count. “Triplets, me, Uncle Scrooge, Donald, Beakley… seven people on your side who want to help, and four who can all help in different ways. Lena’s not going through this alone. You don’t have to, either.”

Webby smiled — a small twitch at first that slowly grew into a grin, and she threw her arms around Della’s neck, hugging her tight. “Yeah. Family, right?”

Della hugged Webby, smiling. “Family,” she agreed. She stood after a moment, and they resumed walking, circling around to the backyard.

“So I read a lot about PTSD,” Webby said, circling back to an earlier point. “But it was all, you know, clinical stuff, just talking about what it is. I know most of the general symptoms, but not what to really… look for, I guess? That’s not the right way to put it. I mean, Lena has a lot of the symptoms, but if you look at them separately, anyone can have nightmares or be depressed or…” She waved her hands vaguely. “You know?”

“Kind of. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not an expert.” Della felt like she needed to slip that in. “I did a lot of research about it too, and went to a few therapy appointments with Donnie to try and figure out what I was dealing with. And we already know Lena’s a  _ hard _ no on therapy, so anything I say is just speculation.”

“Yeah. But it’s probably  _ right _ speculation.” Della had to concede that point.

“So, like you said, there are a lot of general symptoms, and Donald and Lena have a surprising amount in common. He didn’t have the nightmares as much — or he didn’t let me  _ see _ them anyways, he — but he definitely closed himself off when he came back, refused to go out because he didn’t want to deal with crowds, had flashbacks, certain triggers, and his temper got a  _ lot _ worse for a while. It took him… three years, I think? To simmer down to something a bit more normal for him. He always had a bit of a temper — it was kind of funny, actually, this one time, Christmas Eve—” She stopped, wide-eyed. “Oh my god.”

“What?”

“I… just realized my son time traveled and met me and Donald when we were thirteen. I caught my own son in a net!” She took a moment to have an internal crisis over that before shaking her head. “Anyways, there was this thing in the woods, a wendigo, and it—”

“Dewey told me about that!” Webby piped up.

“Oh good. So the wendigo broke Donald’s guitar and he just… lost it. I think that was the first time I ever saw him really throw a fit. I mean, we were kids, kids have tantrums sometimes, but that was different. He gets all red and just starts yelling and…”

“Yeah I’ve seen him do that before. Usually because someone was trying to hurt the boys.”

Della smiled a little. “Well, at least he found a good thing to use the anger for. But right he came home, it was all… different. Any little thing would set him off. He and Uncle Scrooge got into a fight once, and I honestly thought for a minute that Donald might hit him. He didn’t, of course, he’s never done anything like that, but in the moment, it was scary.”

They walked into the backyard and saw Donald on his boat, humming and grilling something. Behind him, Louie popped up with a slingshot and a water balloon, and fired. The balloon hit Donald in the back of the head, and Louie immediately ducked out of sight as his uncle whirled around, yelling something incomprehensible. Dewey came out of the bushes on the left and repeated the process, earning another startled yell. Della smiled fondly as Huey took his shot from the right.

“Look at my boys.”

One of her boys was currently screaming furiously at the bushes that he  _ knew _ it was the triplets and they better get out here  _ right now _ , and he bumped into the grill, knocking it over. “Oh dear.” Della stopped, grimacing.

“That happens a  _ lot _ more often than you’d think,” Webby assured Della as Donald produced a fire extinguisher from somewhere and tried to put out the fire.

“The boys pranking Donald, or the houseboat catching fire?”

“Yes.”

Della laughed, ruffling Webby’s hair. “Anyways, I got off on a bit of tangent, what was I… right, Lena and Donald. I don’t know what she was like before, so I can’t really say anything about her personality…”

“She… didn’t really have a temper,” Webby said slowly. “She got mad at me once because I was trying to mess around with magic, but looking back it kind of makes sense that she was angry. Honestly, she was never really… anything. She was pretty hard to upset. I don’t know how much of that was an act for everyone and how much was real, though.”

“So healthy processing of emotions is a big old nope,” Della said. “Sounds about right. Donald went that route for awhile, too.”

They were walking passed the boat at this point. “Oh, what are you telling her?” Donald grumbled when he heard his name.

“We were just talking about your emo phase,” Della teased. “Also, did you know Dewey  _ time traveled _ to Christmas Eve when we were thirteen?”

“You’re only  _ just _ figuring that out?”

Della scowled. “Your tail feathers are on fire.”

“What?” Donald looked back, and yelled when he saw that his sister was right. He jumped overboard, landing in the pool, and Della bit down a laugh.

“Come on, let’s make sure the boat is okay.”

Donald resurfaced near the ramp, glaring at Della as she walked up and waved. Webby gave him a small, apologetic smile before following.

“So they’re kind of reversed, then,” Della said thoughtfully, examining the the deck to make sure the fire was out. “Donald shut down and Lena broke in a way.”

“She’s not—”

“I don’t mean that as a bad thing,” Della said gently. “You can’t just go your entire life without feeling anything. Eventually something is going to snap. Magica turned her into an emotional time bomb.”

“What’re you talking about?” Donald asked as he pulled himself back on board. Della stood, looking around.

“Lena.” She raised her voice. “Boys, leave your uncle alone for a bit. You can throw more water balloons at him later.”

Three groans echoed around the yard. “Come on.” Della nodded to the door, and Webby followed her inside. “Flashbacks are one of the big symptoms, so of course they both have that. Anxiety, isolating themselves, certain triggers that can set them off…”

“Is everything okay?” Donald asked, ducking into the cabin with them.

“Yeah, Webby’s just curious about PTSD. Lena told her about the kitchen incident.”

“Oh.” Donald softened slightly, his expression sad.

“There are little things, too,” Della continued, leaning against the kitchen table. “Lena’s always very on guard, and I don’t just mean emotionally. I swear she’s constantly checking every room I see her in to make sure she knows where the exits are.”

“She gets defensive easily,” Donald added.

“That too. Beakley knows a lot about abused kids — I have no idea how and I’m a little afraid to ask. She’s said that Lena fits the profile of one to a T, though. Even when she’s happy, she always looks like she’s waiting for something to go wrong.”

Webby had noticed that, actually. Lena slipped every time she thought someone wasn’t looking; Webby had caught her looking around, checking the room, making sure everything was  _ really _ okay. “Like I said, I’m not an expert—”

“As close to one as Lena will ever get, I bet,” Donald said, going to the fridge. “Drinks?”

“Got anything good?”

Donald tossed a water bottle over his shoulder with surprising accuracy. “I’m good,” Webby said. “Thanks.”

“And that’s also a good point.” Della sighed, cracking the water bottle open. “All any of us can do is speculate, and help her the way we think is best. Wanting to understand is a good place to start. Figuring out the best way to approach her is a great step. Don’t let her shut down.”

“And don’t let her shut you out,” Donald said, looking at Della out of the corner of his eye.

“Like you could ever get rid of me.” She kicked him lightly, and he rolled his eyes, muttering something about trying before turning to get a bottle and two glasses out of the cabinet. “Learn how to react when she has a flashback or panic attack. That’s  _ really _ important. I’ve noticed she doesn’t mind touch as much, as long as you’re not trying to put your arms around her all at once. Take it slow.”

Donald handed Della her drink, and they tapped the glasses together in a silent toast before drinking. “Be normal about it.” Donald sat on the edge of the bench, swirling his drink around. “Nothing is worse than feeling like a freak.”

Della leaned over to nudge him gently with her shoulder. “It seems like she’s still getting used to being allowed to express herself. It’s not a free pass, though; don’t let her take things out on you.”

Webby sighed, looking at her feet. The boys were throwing water balloons at each other now, their laughter filling the silence. “I don’t think I’m any good at this.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Della scolded her lightly. “You’re the person she trusts most here. She wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for you.”

“You don’t need to worry about being good at it,” Donald added. “Being there at all already means the world to her, I promise. You’re both learning about dealing with this as you go.”

“And don’t forget that  _ you _ are not alone.” It was amazing, the way they picked up each other’s sentences with ease. It must have been a sibling thing. “You can always ask for help if you need it. I can’t guarantee the  _ best _ answers, but you’ll get the best I’ve got, and I kept Donald sane for years.”

“Yeah, right.” Donald scoffed, sipping his drink — and choking when Della hit him and he inhaled the liquid.

“You’re not solely in charge of helping Lena. Don’t forget that.” Della set her drink down and knelt. “You’re a kid, too. All of this was overwhelming for me when I was in my twenties, so you’re already doing way better than I did. But it is  _ not _ on you alone to keep her sane. You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed or confused or… heck, even resentful. But you can ask for help long before you get to that point. You’re allowed to be fourteen and not know what to do. You can come to one of us if you just need to unload. That’s what adults are for.”

Webby nodded slowly, and smiled. “Yeah. I get it. Thanks for talking to me. Both of you.”

“Any time, kiddo. All you gotta do is ask.”

“ _ Dewey _ !”

“It was Huey!”

“Was  _ not _ !”

Webby whirled to look out the window. Lena had woken up, apparently — and had been hit by a stray water balloon when she stepped into the backyard. All three boys looked positively terrified, and with good reason, considering the glare Lena was giving them. Webby giggled, running out of the cabin and jumping from the boat to the grass.

“I know where they’re keeping the balloons, come on!” she called to Lena as she ran into the bushes.

“Wait—”

“No—”

“We can work this out—”

Too late. Several balloons were encased in blue energy and lifted into the air while Webby came out with more, poised to throw. The boys screamed and ran, the girls running after them.

" _This is not an appropriate use of magic_!" Huey yelled.

"Scrooge'll get over it!" Lena called back, aiming a balloon right at his head.

Della watched them out the window, biting her lip to try and keep from laughing. She should  _ probably _ feel bad for her sons — between magic and Webby’s throwing arm, they were getting pummeled. But it was also a little funny.

Donald stood to look at the window with his sister, watching the kids run around and laugh. Or cry. “So when are you going to stop using Lena to avoid your own problems?” he asked quietly. The smile faded, and Della sighed, turning away. She finished her drink in one gulp.

“I’m not  _ using _ her.”

“You’re using the situation as an excuse to not deal with things,” Donald argued. “I know you, Della.”

“Hey.” Della turned to look at him, expression stony. “I care about her, you know.”

“I know you do,” Donald huffed back. “That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what  _ are  _ you saying?”

“That you would rather go back to the moon than face the fact that  _ you’re _ the one who needs help for once. I know you would want to help Lena either way, but now it’s a good reason to avoid your own issues. Lena’s going to start recovering and coping eventually, though. What are you gonna do then?”

The fight drained out of Della all at once — a rare sight. The only sound for a long moment was the kids laughing outside.

“I don’t know, Donald,” she finally said in a small voice. “Why would you ever think I know what I’m doing?”

Donald set his drink on the counter. “Good point.” 

He tugged Della into a hug even as she tried to kick his leg.


	13. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coping is hard. But a certain former super-spy knows some great ways to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***Warning For:*** Brief mention of child abuse

It was a  _ quiet _ night in the McDuck manor — the boys, Scrooge, Webby, and Della had run off to get some treasure or something, and apparently it was turning into an overnight thing. Launchpad, relieved from pilot duty for the night, had retired to his garage apartment to watch Darkwing Duck, probably. Donald was out on his boat. Lena, the last Beakley had seen, had taken over the upstairs rec room for an all-night ghost show marathon. Beakley had no idea how she handled those with her paranoia and anxiety. Perhaps the obvious inauthenticity gave her some comfort. It seemed she planned on spending the night there — she was wearing her night shirt and already tucked under a blanket, the lights off.

“Lena, are you  _ sure _ you want to sleep down here?” Beakley asked one more time before going to bed. She couldn’t imagine the couch was very comfortable, but Lena didn’t seem like she was going to sleep.

“Am I sure I want to stay with the biggest TV in the house and not have to fight down Huey, Dewey, and Louie for the remote?” Lena smirked. “Absolutely.”

“All right. Try to get some sleep.”

“I’ll see what happens. G’night, Colonel Crumpet.”

“Good night, Lena.” Beakley shook her head, smiling fondly as she headed for her room. Lena was still an incorrigible teenager with a bad habit for finding trouble. But it was hard not to grow attached to her. For all the sass and attitude, she was just another kid who wanted to be loved. And Beakley  _ was _ a grandmother. She was obligated to love any child who came through this house.

* * *

“Mrs. Beakley.”

The old woman groaned under her breath. “Duckworth, whatever the problem is, I’m  _ sure  _ it can wait until the sun is up.”

“I believe Ms. Lena is a great amount of distress.” Beakley sat up at once, reaching for her glasses. “I would offer my own comfort, however…”

He stuck his hand through Beakley’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Duckworth.”

She pulled her dressing robe on as she hurried out of the room. Lena was curled up tight in the corner of the rec room couch, her knees up to her chest, hands over her ears, eyes clenched shut. Her breathing was stuttered and uneven.

“Lena.” Beakley turned on one of the smaller lamps before sitting with the teen. “What’s wrong? I didn’t think this kind of thing would—”

“Shadows,” she whispered, shuddering. “The episode was about  _ shadows _ haunting a home. They were just… moving, on their own, and that was bad enough, and I swear one of them looked like… like…”

She pulled her hands away from her ears, pressing the fingernails on her right fingers into her left hand. “Lena, stop—”

“I can’t feel anything.” She scrambled, prodding different parts of her body, then the couch. “I can’t feel, I can’t—”

“Lena.” Beakley gently grabbed her arm. The girl’s eyes were glassy, and it was hard to tell if she was actually  _ looking _ at Beakley. “Lena, can you hear me?” She nodded slowly. “Can you see me?” Another nod. “Good. I’m going to walk you through a breathing exercise, and it’s going to seem silly, but I need you to focus and listen without sarcasm. Okay?”

Lena nodded slowly, still trying to catch her breath. “All right. Take a deep breath, as much as you can.” It took a few tries, but she managed. “Good. Now. Tell me five things you can see.”

“Five things I can…” Lena’s eyes darted around, “Um, the TV, you… the table… the door… the remote?”

“Very good. Four things you can touch or feel.”

Lena’s eyes darted around wildly. Her fingers wrapped around her blanket, and she sighed. “The blanket. The couch.” She gently pressed a fingernail into the opposite hand and let out a low breath. “Pain. M-My shirt.” It was soaked in sweat.

Beakley nodded, giving her a small smile. “Good. Three things you can hear. Try to keep your eyes open.”

“Hear? Um… you. The TV. Something moving upstairs.”

“Two things you can smell.”

“Um… the cleaning spray you were using earlier. Cherry pep.”

“And one thing you can taste.”

Lena looked around, then grabbed a can off the table, taking a long sip. “The cherry pep I stole from Louie’s stash.”

Beakley smiled. “Good. You did great, Lena. How do you feel?”

“I… feel a little better?” She frowned looking around, still trying to catch her breath. It wasn’t nearly as fast as or as panicked, though. “What was that?”

“I would say a panic attack—”

“Not that.” Lena sighed. “The five, four, three…” She waved her hand.

“It’s a coping technique for anxiety. The point of it is to use your senses to ground you in reality. It gives you something to focus on, and helps keep you from slipping into flashbacks.”

Lena raised a weary eyebrow at Beakley. “You got some skeletons in the closet, Tea Time?”

Beakley shook her head, muting the TV. “I’ve been around the block. And you’d be surprised what’s going on under the surface of this family.”

“Della told me about Donald being in the Coast Guard.”

“Oh, yes.” Beakley sighed. “He had a hard time when he came back. I was still… working, but I made time to visit and make sure McDuck hadn’t gotten himself killed in his stupidity. God bless Della — Scrooge had no idea how to help Donald. Then of course Della disappeared, and I know Scrooge blamed himself for it. And everything that happened after…”

Lena nodded slowly as Beakley’s voice drifted off. “Yeah. Webby filled me in on the whole thing with the Spear of Selene.”

“A thing is certainly one way of putting it.” Beakley looked Lena up and down. “But that’s not important right now.”

“What could possibly be more important than a tragic family past?”

“A current tragic present,” Beakley said dryly. Lena almost laughed.

“Tragic is one way to put my existence.” She slumped back into the couch, closing her eyes. “I’m afraid of  _ shadows _ .”

“Fears don’t have to make sense to be real or valid. And given what you’ve been through, I would say you have every right. Trauma isn’t always logical.”

Lena scrubbed her face, shaking her head. “Yeah. That’s what Donald and Della said, too.”

Beakley nodded. “They would know. What else did they say?”

Lena peeked around her hands, raising an eyebrow. “Please. I know they told you. I assume you all just talk about any time I have a meltdown.”

“Well…” Beakley sighed. “Della was worried the first time you had a panic attack.”

“And it’s hard to keep nightmares a secrets when you wake up screaming from them.” Lena ran her hands through her hair. “I know it’s because you all care for some reason.”

“Because you’re part of this family now, whether you like it or not.”

Lena laughed humorlessly. “Remember when you told me I wasn’t allowed to see Webby anymore?”

“In my defense, I had no way of knowing what was coming. And you’re still a terrible influence.”

“And you let me share a room with your innocent granddaughter.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m under no delusion she’s  _ innocent _ .”

That got Beakley a real laugh as Lena straightened up. “Good. I was afraid I’d have to be the one to break the news to you.”

The older duck smiled, shaking her head. She couldn’t say it was hard to look back and wonder how she could think Lena was a bad influence — the girl was two steps from a delinquent. But context and hindsight were important. And Lena had changed a  _ lot _ since she had realized she actually had a life to live and she needed to do better.

Lena shot a look at the TV, sighing. The episode that had set her off was almost over. “Hm. I wonder how they got rid of the shadows.”

“Do you want to rewind it and find out?”

“Definitely not.” Lena grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, finally landing on some home decorating show. “Well, it’s something to fall asleep to.”

Beakley chuckled, standing and gently tugging the blanket to cover Lena, almost tucking her in. Lena kept her eyes down as she settled back into her nest, and Beakley turned off the light.

“Hey… Mrs. Beakley?”

The call of her name was so confusing, she almost didn’t register it. She turned back, bewildered. When was the last time Lena had used her name? “Yes?”

“You said once you know what an abused kid looks like. Where’d you learn that? Doesn’t sound like something you pick up in super spy school.”

It was a fair question. Just not one for right then. “I’ll tell you some other time. You should get some sleep for now."

“Yeah. I guess. Night, Tea Time.”

Ah, there it was. Normalcy. “Good night, Lena.”


	14. Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs a birthday. Even a teenage shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter I've had written and have been tweaking for a long time. It seems appropriate to post it:
> 
> a) for Weblena Week Day 13  
> b) my own birthday, which is also today! (reviews are great presents just saying)

“Della, I think we’ve all gone blind,” Scrooge complained as Della took  _ yet another _ picture of the boys blowing out their birthday candles.

“It’s their  _ first birthday _ with me! I can’t believe Donald barely took any pictures of their birthdays. It’s a scandal.”

Donald sputtered incoherently. He had taken roughly a million pictures of each birthday, always thinking maybe Della would come back someday and he could show them to her. It had been foolish.

And now she was here, winding him up.

“Soooooo how old are you guys now?” Lena teased, poking the closest triplet — Dewey — in the side of his head. “Like, eight, nine?”

“Very funny,” Dewey said, batting her hand away, and she laughed.

“Can we cut this cake already?” Louie demanded.

“Wait, let me get one more picture of it,” Della said, raising her camera, and everyone shielded their eyes. “Okay, now can I get a picture of someone cutting the—”

“No!” Everyone spoke at the same time, and Webby grabbed the camera from her.

“Just enjoy the day, lass” Scrooge said, and Della sighed.

“Fiiiiiiiine. Can  _ Webby _ take pictures for me?”

“Uh, I’ll take pictures,” Lena said quickly, grabbing the camera. “Webby’ll go just as nuts as you.”

“Rude,” Webby huffed.

“But not inaccurate.”

The celebration continued with the camera in  _ slightly  _ more trustworthy hands. Even if Lena did mess around and take a few way too close up shots of the boys’ faces.

“This one’s for all three of ya,” Scrooge said, hefting a large box onto the table. Lena stepped back to get a picture as they all tore the paper off.

“Whoooooooooooooooooooooooooa.” They said in unison. Lena peeked around the camera.

“What is it?”

“Laser tag!” Still speaking together. Dewey immediately tore the box open, digging through it for the equipment. Lena knew she was about to ask a question that would get her a lot of sad looks. She went ahead anyways.

“What’s laser tag?”

The boys exchanged looks, doing that thing where they just talked to each other with their eyes, and nodded decisively. “Okay so here’s what we do,” Huey said. “Turn off all the mansion lights, close all the curtains,  _ no night vision goggles Webby _ , and free-for-all! Every duck for themself!”

“That does not at all answer my question.”

“Hang on, I was thinking this could be an outside—”

“Let’s go!”

Huey grabbed the box, and Dewey helped him haul it off while Webby grabbed Lena and pulled her off.

“I suggest we find a safe zone,” Beakley said, finishing the last of her cake slice.

“Great gift, Scrooge,” Donald grumbled.

“Don’t blame me, it was Della’s idea. Just be happy I talked her out of the  _ paint _ guns.”

“There are two more kids in this house. I’ll get the paint guns in here somehow,” Della said confidently. “When are Webby’s and Lena’s birthdays?”

“Webby’s is in February,” Beakley said. 

“And Lena is unknown.” Scrooge sighed. “Still working on getting her a legal birth certificate, and a date of birth is a little hard when the best we can do is ‘the day Magika created her from a shadow’.”

“That’s not a day to celebrate.”

“No. I keep meaning to sit her down and go over these things, but the other kids are always—” Scrooge cut himself off as the lights went out. “Blimey, did they actually cut the power to the whole manor?”

“Did you really think they wouldn’t?”

Laser tag, as it turned out, was  _ exactly _ the kind of game Lena  _ loved _ . It was completely in the dark, and months in the shadow realm had helped her adjust to low light. Not quite up to the level of Webby and the night vision goggles she was absolutely using, but it still helped her get a drop on the boys.

One was coming down the hall now, as she hid behind a plant. She waited until he was close enough before peeking around the plant and taking aim.

“Gotcha!”

“Aw, come on!” Louie groaned, fiddling to reset his vest. “You and Webby are such cheaters.”

“Hey, my ability is natural. Webby is the one who—”

“HA!” Lena’s vest lit up as she was shot from behind, and she whirled to see Webby descending from the ceiling, night vision goggles over her eyes.

“Okay,  _ pause _ !” Louie shouted down the hall. “Webby’s got her goggles!”

“There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t use night vision goggles!” Webby insisted, detaching herself from her rope and dropping to the ground.

“You and Lena can both see better in the dark, it’s not fair to us,” Dewey said as he came up behind his brother, Huey following.

“You know…” Lena turned to Webby, smiling wickedly. “We  _ do _ have an advantage over them. It doesn’t make any sense for us to fight each other…”

“When we could gang up on them!” Webby said excitedly, resetting her vest and turning it red. Lena did the same.

“Way to go, Dewey,” Louie said as the boys backed up.

“Run!” Huey yelped, and they took off down the hall.

“After you,” Lena said with a flourish, and Webby grinned, taking off down the hall.

* * *

“Oh, Lena, I’m glad I caught you.”

Lena looked up from her phone, surprised to find herself eye to eye with a smiling Scrooge. “Am I in trouble?” she asked, almost automatically.

“Yer startin’ to give a complex, lass.” Scrooge chuckled. “No, you’re not in trouble, we just need to go over a few legal things about your… existence.”

“You mean the one I don’t technically have.”

“Well, not yet. Getting less than legal papers is a bit of a process. But we need to work out some of the details.”

Lena followed Scrooge to his office, and he closed the door behind them for privacy before they settled at his desk. “Any thoughts on a last name, yet?”

“I dunno.” Lena sighed, flopping back in her own seat. “I used to use le Strange sometimes when I was arrested. You know, switch things up.”

“It  _ does _ have a nice ring to it,” Scrooge agreed, making a note. “It doesn’t have to be your permanent name, but it’s something to start. Now, a date of birth.”

“Do I  _ need _ one?”

“Well, for the purposes of a birth certificate, yes.”

Lena sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Why do we need to do all this legal stuff anyways? We both know I’m never going to have a real, normal life.”

“You don’t know that,” Scrooge said with a small frown. “You haven’t given it a chance. And normal is subjective.”

“I mean, around here, yeah. But the boys and Webby are… well, they’re real. I’m still just a shadow.”

“You have thoughts, feelings, opinions, and quite the sassy attitude.” Lena smirked slightly. “You’re as real as any of us.”

“All right, all right. Uh… I dunno, just pick a random date, I guess? I don’t think it really matters.”

Scrooge had a feeling Webby would disagree — no doubt she’d want to celebrate Lena’s birthday, whenever they decided it was. But that gave him an idea.

“All right, then. I’ll put down something random. Place of birth?”

“Mount Vesuvius.” Scrooge raised an eyebrow. “What? It’s true.”

“I’m just putting in Saint Canard.” He scribbled down a note about it.

“So how do you know where to get a fake birth certificate?”

“It’s not fake, it’s  _ forged _ . Fake implies that it wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny and I pay well for the work that gets done. You’d be surprised what money can get you.”

“Right. What else do you need?”

“Well, there’s the issue of parents…” Lena sighed. “Make names up?”

“Please.”

He scribbled down a few more notes. Lena looked around, making sure the door was shut, and lowered her voice. “You really don’t have to do this. I mean, it’s not a big deal if I don’t legally exist. I’ve gotten through everything so far just fine.”

Scrooge looked up, raising an eyebrow. “You keep putting all this off. Every time I try to bring it up, you’ve got something else to run out and do or the kids drag you away. If you don’t want to do this…”

Lena sighed, straightening up in the chair and meeting Scrooge’s gaze. “It’s not that I don’t  _ want _ to, it’s just… I’ve basically been owned by Magica for my entire… I dunno, let’s call it a life.” She dropped her gaze. “Sometimes this all feels like I’m just going from one owner to another.”

Scrooge nodded once, setting his pen down. “Lass, making your existence a reality means  _ you _ own your life. Not Magica, and certainly not me. You’re a person, not an object. Nobody’s going to use you again. I just want to make sure you’re able to protect yourself, and that you have somewhere to turn when you need help.”

Lena raised her eyes just slightly to barely look at Scrooge. “I guess. All of this is just…”

“You’re not used to havin’ people who care about you,” Scrooge said gently. “I understand. Let’s put it this way — you trust Webby, right?” Lena nodded. “And Webby trusts us.”

“Webby doesn’t  _ always  _ have the best judgment.”

“I trust her judgment,” Scrooge said with a chuckle. “You’re not the sum of what Magica made you do.”

Lena gave him a bit of a half smile. “Yeah, I guess. I know you’d never try to use me for anything.”

“Well, I can’t promise I won’t ask you to at least keep your room clean.” Scrooge smiled when Lena chuckled under her breath.

“Fair.”

* * *

It was uncommonly rare to find Webby without Lena, so when Scrooge walked into the dining room and saw Webby eating a bowl of cereal and reading a book, he knew he had to take advantage of it.

“Lena still asleep?”

Webby looked up. “Hm? Yeah, she was up late. She always thinks I don’t notice, but the bed shakes when she moves.”

Scrooge sighed. They really needed to look into something besides tea and sleeping pills to help that girl. “Well, while I have you alone, I need your assistance with something, if you have a minute?”

“Sure!” Webby hopped excitedly, book and food forgotten. “What’re we doing?”

Scrooge gestured for her to follow him to the office. “I’m trying to get the last of the paperwork sorted for Lena so she can legally exist, and she hasn’t been particularly helpful with some of the details. I know they don’t matter to her, but I thought at least one of them might to you.”

Webby tilted her head. “Which one?”

“Her birthday.”

“Ooooooooooh!” Webby immediately started bouncing. “Yeah, that’s  _ really _ important. I’m not surprised she doesn’t care.”

They closed themselves in the office, Webby still bouncing around. Scrooge smiled, sitting at his desk and pulling out his notepad. “So. Your thoughts?”

“Hmn…” Webby put on her thinking face, clearly deep in thought. “She deserves something that’s her own. Not that sharing birthdays or birth months is bad, but she just, ya know… she needs to not share something.”

Scrooge smiled. He’d known asking Webby was a good idea. He quickly scribbled down a list of months and then started crossing them out. “So that’s February, April, August, and October out.”

“Something that’s coming soon so we don’t have to wait another year.” Scrooge crossed out January and March. “Lose November and December too, those are holiday months.”

“Lass, we’re down to four months.”

“Which ones?”

“May, June, July, and September.”

Webby thought for a moment, then beamed. “I know exactly which month to give her. Do you have a calendar?”

* * *

Lena shot up with a gasp, looking around. She was fine. Everything was fine. Everything was dark, courtesy of the blackout curtains, but there was a small sliver of light shining in through a crack, and the loft door was open, light shining through. Webby must have been up already. Lena looked at the clock and sighed. Six a.m. That girl was insane.

She yawned, lying back with every intention of going to sleep — until the alarm started shrieking at her. “What?!” She was back up again, slamming the thing until it stopped. It was six-oh-five. “Webby, what—”

There was a piece of notebook paper tucked under the clock. Lena picked it up carefully, unfolding it. It was surprisingly sparse, though definitely written in Webby’s handwriting.

_ Come downstairs _ .

“It’s too early for adventures.” She yawned, but she stumbled out of bed, grabbing her sweater and jumping out of the loft. “This better be good, Pink.”

She got to the bottom of the stairs, pulling the sweater over her head, and frowned when she saw a row of paper arrows leading to the dining room.

“Oooooooooookay, subtle.”

She followed the arrows to the door, nudging it open. It was dark. “Webby…?”

The lights snapped on. “ _ Surprise _ !”

Lena yelped, jumping back. “Jesus, what the…”

Her eyes drifted around the room, first over the people in front of her — Scrooge, Beakley, Launchpad, Della, Donald, the triplets, Violet, and of course, Webby — around the room, taking in the decorations, the balloons, the streamers,  _ how long had they been awake _ ?, and finally to the pile of presents and the cake on the table (definitely made by Mrs. Beakley; Lena sent a silent prayer of thanks to whoever was listening), with  _ Happy Birthday Lena! _ written on it in bright pink frosting.

“We totally got you!” Webby cheered, tackling her with such force that they both stumbled back.

“Uh, yeah, definitely got me.” Lena hugged her without thinking, looking around. “What’s… going on?”

“Well, you said pick a random date,” Scrooge said with a small chuckle. “So I consulted with Webby.”

“Right.” Lena looked down at Webby. “And you picked July because…?”

“It’s the month we met!” That stunned Lena more than anything else she’d seen that morning. And it was already a pretty high bar. “And the exact day and everything.”

Lena looked around again, swallowing. “I… this is all really great, but I mean—”

“Sssshhhh.” Webby put a finger on Lena’s beak. “Just enjoy this. No arguing, no ‘don’t go through the trouble’, just be happy, and let us celebrate having you.”

Lena stared at Webby for a long moment, then back at the rest of the group, who were watching curiously. She whirled quickly, scrubbing away the welling tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Dignity in tact, she turned back to Webby.

“Okay.”

“Woohoo!” Webby grabbed Lena’s hand, dragging her to the table. “I know it’s really early for cake, but we had to do it early or you would’ve caught us. Granny made an awesome breakfast, though.”

Sure enough, now that Lena looked closer, she saw plates set around the dining room, and serving bowls and plates in the middle. There was bacon, eggs, and — Lena almost laughed — crumpets. “Can we eat now?” Louie groaned. “Webby got us out of bed at three a.m. for this.”

Webby shoved Lena into a chair, giggling. “Yeah, everyone can eat now.”

Louie was the first one in a chair, grabbing a piece of bacon. “Hold on,” Scrooge said, and the green-clad triplet froze within inches of taking a bite. “Just want to give you one thing before we start.”

He grabbed a thin, rectangular gift off the pile of presents, handing it to her. “Just the one. I’m a bit vain, don’t want it to get lost in the shuffle later.”

Lena took the present, shooting Webby a look. She looked genuinely bewildered, and the rest of the table was watching with interest. She carefully unwrapped it and found three frames — one of a birth certificate, stating Lena had been born July twenty-third to the parents of Morgana and D’Shane le Strange. She raised an eyebrow at Scrooge, who chuckled.

“You may have noticed we’re not that creative with naming in this family—”

“Jet, Turbo, and Rebel,” Della said sullenly, glaring at Donald.

“I did the boys a favor.”

“I could’ve been Turbo,” Dewey groaned.

“ _ Anyways _ , I decided to borrow the names of a couple friends — well, acquaintances — who I’m sure won’t mind. And Morgana’s owed me a favor for about forty years now, so I’ll call it even if she ever finds out. She’ll be relieved.”

Lena tilted her head. “Morgana… that sounds familiar.”

“Aye.” Scrooge rolled his eyes wearily. “She and Magica have… history. It’s a long story, but rest assured, they hate each other, and Morgana would be delighted to think the very existence of this would annoy Magica.”

That was the only convincing Lena needed. She grinned, setting the first frame aside to look at the second one. “Now, this one isn’t official  _ yet _ , there’s some forms you need to sign in front of a judge, and then you’ll be re-issued a  _ new _ birth certificate, but unfortunately you need an original to be adopted…”

Lena lost track of what he was saying as she scanned the adoption certificate.  _ This hereby certifies that Lena le Strange has been formally adopted into the Duck family by mother Della Duck _ …

The rest of it was blurred by the tears filling her eyes again. Damn it. “What is it?” Webby asked curiously? Lena handed her the frame, scrubbing her eyes furiously. Webby read it once, twice, then squealed.

“That’s so cool! You guys have a sister!”

“What?!” All three boys immediately scrambled to get a look at the frame. A hand rested on Lena’s shoulder, and she looked up to see Della giving her a small, half smile.

“Scrooge was just going to put his own name in, but I thought… well, I hope you don’t mind, I’m sure he can always redo the forms if…”

Her voice drifted off as Lena stood, hugging Della tight and hiding her face in her shoulder.

“Wait, does this mean I’m not the oldest anymore?”

“You hatched like twenty seconds before me, give it a break.”

“You can still be the responsible one, it’s not like Lena’s going to take  _ that _ away from you…”

Lena giggled into Della’s shoulder, pulling away to wipe her eyes, and Della brushed the pink strand of hair back from her face. “Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to take you away from the boys, god knows they need all the help they can get—”

“ _ Hey _ !”

Della laughed. “I think I can handle four of you.”

“So what’s the third one?” Violet asked curiously, leaning around Webby to get a look at the third frame.

“Oh, nothing particularly impressive compared to the adoption certificate.” Scrooge chuckled as Lena reached over to pick it up. “Just a form certifying in the event of something happening to Della — like getting stuck on the  _ moon _ again—”

“Has it really been long enough that we can joke about that?”

“I’ll take custody of Lena as her legal guardian. Just to make sure all the bases are covered.” He gave Lena a soft smile. “There is absolutely nothing that will take you out of this house ever again, until you decide to leave on your own — after you legally turn eighteen in two years.”

Lena looked down at the third frame, then barely had time to put it down before Webby launched herself at her, hugging her tight. Lena returned the hug with such vigor that she actually lifting Webby off the ground. The boys exchanged looks, then shrugged and hurried to join the hug. Launchpad was trying to hide his sniffles, Donald was watching with a smile and tears in his eyes, and even Beakley looked a little teary-eyed despite her otherwise stoic demeanor.

“Not going to join the group hug?” Scrooge asked Violet. She shook her head, smiling.

“I was adopted when I was four. I know how important this moment is. It’s best left to the family.”

“Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh okay, enough feely stuff,” Louie declared. “I’m starving here.”

Huey and Dewey both punched him. Lena laughed, wiping her eyes, and Webby finally let go, dropping her back to the floor. “Right. Let’s eat.”

Lena collected the frames, very carefully setting them aside in a place where they wouldn’t be touched; Scrooge flipped his can to hook Lena’s arm, tugging her in for a quick hug of his own.

“Wait, do I have to call you Uncle Scrooge now?”

He chuckled, ruffling her hair. “Only if ya want, lass.”

She considered it for a moment. “We’ll see what happens,” she finally decided, sitting down to join Webby in questioning Violet about being adopted. Scrooge looked at Della, who was practically glowing.

“There are paintball guns in that pile of presents, aren’t there?”

“...It’s a distinct possibility.”


	15. Creative Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs an outlet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boarding school idea from: https://66.media.tumblr.com/1c7d0add0230ced24b34f80ae5994572/tumblr_p8wj4lcCTh1wh50qio1_500.jpg

“I didn’t know you could draw.”

“Huh?” Lena looked up from the scrap of paper she was doodling on. Watching Webby and Beakley bake was boring, and finding something else to do was too much work. “I dunno, it’s not really drawing.” She picked up the paper, turning it over. “It’s just a receipt.”

“And you were drawing on the other side,” Scrooge said, taking it and turning it back over. It wasn’t much at all — the view of the beach from the amphitheater. It had been a nice backyard, at least. “Have you ever had any lessons?”

“I feel like you all just kind of forget sometimes that I’m not normal,” Lena said dryly.

“Perhaps, but I happen to know you spent several years in and out of boarding schools.”

Beakley and Webby turned to gape at Lena, who was staring at Scrooge in surprise. “How did you—”

“I was curious when you mentioned police records.” Scrooge sounded amused. Lena assumed she wasn’t in trouble, at least. “You only changed your last name, and I noticed you seemed fond of le Strange.”

“It annoyed Magica.” Lena shrugged. “But, yeah, courts had a habit of sending me to boarding schools when they couldn’t find any record of my existence. I failed, they kicked me out, I disappeared before they could find somewhere else to send me. It made getting to Duckburg a little easier since they’d usually send me to another town and get me closer to here.”

“Wait, so you’ve actually been to  _ school _ ?” Webby said in awe. “I’ve been home-schooled my whole life. What was it  _ like _ ?!”

“Like I was in jail but with classes. I was terrible at school. Mostly because I didn’t care.” She took her slip of paper back to continue her doodling. “I did like art, though. It was the one class where no one told me I was useless delinquent. I even managed to tick off the music teacher.”

“By…?”

“Let’s just say it involved the piano and super glue.” Three blank stares were the only response she got. “Magica was all worked up about getting out, I was trying to get expelled. Don’t look at me like that.”

“But you were good at art?” Webby asked, hefting herself half onto the counter to look at the drawing.

“I dunno. I was okay.” Lena shrugged. “I always assumed it had something to do with magic. God forbid if you forget a spell or pattern, you could end up in another dimension. Or opening a layer of reality that shouldn’t be opened.”

“Like the Shadow Realm?”

“Worse. The Shadow Realm is relatively quiet unless  _ certain people _ go messing around with it.”

Webby giggled.

* * *

Lena refused to go to therapy. Scrooge had thought at one point she was almost convinced, after a nightmare that had left her particularly shaken, but she’d gone back to “I’ll think about it” the next morning.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t bring therapy to her, however. It had taken a lot of digging, some of Beakley’s old contacts, and a  _ lot _ of money to find someone who would be willing to consult without Lena’s consent and try to help the adults figure out how to work with her. They kept most of the conversation on email, lest a curious child overhear them. One  _ long _ (and yet somehow the shorter story) email about Lena’s past and describing how she had been since coming back was more than enough for the therapist to say she almost certainly had PTSD, which Della and Donald had guessed a long time ago. He had suggested they try to figure out something Lena could do to distract herself — a hobby, something to engage in and keep her mind and hands busy.

Of course, Lena had never really expressed interest in anything. Hobbies were a luxury she hadn’t been allowed. She liked playing video games with the boys, and there was her ever-present phone and music (those headphones Della had gotten her were well worth the money), but those weren’t hobbies. Not anything  _ engaging _ , at least. Given the way the kids yelled when they were playing their games, Scrooge suspected they worked her up far more than they relaxed her. She also had the journal Webby had given her, but they never saw that — it stayed up in the loft, out of sight, and they had no idea if it was helping.

She had finally given them something to work with, though.

Lena jumped as Scrooge appeared in her peripheral vision. She slid her headphones off and sat up cautiously. This was what she got for lounging in public areas. “What’s up?”

“Well, we were talking about art the other day, and it seemed like something you actually enjoyed, and I’ve been telling you forever you need a hobby, so…” He held out a sketchpad and a set of pencils. Lena stared for a moment, surprised. “If you’re really not interested, I won’t force it on you. But I thought you should at least have a choice.”

The teen hesitated for a moment — gifts just for the sake of giving gifts was still a foreign concept to her — before reaching out uncertainly, as if expecting Scrooge to pull the offer away. He didn’t of course; she took the items, turning over the package of pencils curiously. “I… thank you,” she finally said, looking back at Scrooge. He smiled, giving himself a mental pat on the back. She’d taken it. That was a start.

“You know you can ask if there’s anything you want, right lass?” he asked gently. He knew he gave the boys a hard time, but sometimes they deserved it. Della stole his credit cards, so he’d given up on her. Donald refused anything more than an occasional meal and the pool for his boathouse. Webby and Lena, though… they never seemed to ask for anything.

“Yeah, of course,” Lena said a little too quickly, ducking her head. “Or I can just ask Della. Same thing, right?”

Scrooge chuckled. “She thinks she’s sneaky. But yes, same thing. As long as you know you can ask  _ someone _ .”

“Definitely, yeah.” Lena gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Scrooge.”

“Ah, nothing to thank me for, lass.” He squeezed her shoulder briefly before turning to leave. “I hope you get some good use out of that.”

Lena waited until she knew Scrooge was gone before slipping her headphones back on and opening the package of pencils. She remembered almost nothing about shading, but she could make it up as she went along. That was what she did, right?

She flipped open the sketchbook and carefully started drawing.

* * *

“Why are you all soaked? Della, did you let them in the car without drying them off?”

“They soaked all the towels,” Della said with a shrug, mostly immune to Beakley’s glare. The four kids behind her were still wound up and jumping around, flying high from a day spent at the water park. Lena had been invited along, and given a hard, under no circumstances were they to argue,  _ no _ . And that was fair. She had gone with them at the beginning of the season and survived the crowd fairly well. But now it was the middle of summer — they had  _ all _ been a little overwhelmed by the amount of people. She probably wouldn’t have survived.

“All of you  _ wait _ ,” Beakley said firmly, stalking off to get more towels.

“Maaaaaaaaybe you guys should wait outside,” Della said slowly. They were already starting to form a puddle.

“Granny’s mad at you,” Webby said with a giggle as she and the boys stepped back out the front step.

“That’s nothing new.”

“Reassuring that some things always stay the same,” Scrooge said smugly as he came out of the dining room. “Are you dry enough to be allowed in the house?”

“Yeah, I’m not the one who dropped my towel in the pool. What’s up?”

Scrooge tilted his head toward the den, and Della followed him curiously. They peeked around the door together, and she saw Lena, leaning back against the arm of the couch, headphones on, her pencil moving quickly and cleanly along the page. Della had never seen her  _ that _ peaceful, not even in her sleep.

“How long…?”

“Six hours, at least. Beakley’s a bit annoyed because she skipped lunch, but I’m sure the kids can convince her to put it down for a bit. It doesn’t  _ fix _ things of course—”

“Nothing  _ fixes _ trauma, you know that. But she seems happy.”

Beakley returned with towels, finally letting the kids in. “Get dried off and dressed, dinner is twenty minutes. And can one of you  _ please _ talk to Lena about eating?”

“I’ve got her,” Webby piped up, quickly drying off.

“She’s in the den.”

The duckling hurried to the den, hesitating when she saw the headphones. Getting her attention with the headphones on was always hard, especially since she was so absorbed in… what  _ was _ she doing? Webby crept closer, waiting for Lena to notice her. She was always on guard and keeping track of everything around her.

Except she was completely unaware of Webby, even as she got close enough to see the sketchpad resting against her legs while she sketched. It was… Magica? No, a shadow. Slightly Magica-shaped, but just a shadow. Webby shook off the uneasy feeling, reaching forward to wave a hand in front of Lena’s face. She jumped, predictably, and quickly closed the sketchpad, looking up.

“Oh, hey.” She slid her headphones off. “You’re back early.”

Webby raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been gone for twelve hours.”

“No you haven’t, that’s…” Lena looked at her phone, and frowned. “Oh. I guess I lost track of time.”

“What were you drawing?” Webby ventured uncertainly. Lena looked warily at the sketchpad, then at Webby.

“What’d you  _ see _ ?”

There was no point in lying. “Magica, I think.”

Lena sighed, opening the pad to the page she had been on. “It’s… one of my nightmares,” she admitted slowly, clearly forcing herself to say each word. “Not one of the worst ones, it’s just… her. Her shadow. Always looming over me no matter what I do. Like I’ll never get rid of her.”

Webby didn’t want to push her luck much, but she had to ask… “Is that why you check your shadow every morning?”

“Yeah,” Lena admitted quietly. “I know it’s stupid—”

“It’s not stupid. Magica hurt you.  _ I’m _ afraid her coming back, and I know Uncle Scrooge worries about it a lot too. He has Gizmoduck doing constant searches for her.”

“She won’t be found until she wants to be,” Lena said quietly.

“And we’ll be ready when she does.” Webby paused, realizing something. “Hey. You just talked to me. Like, you told me about something bad.”

Lena tilted her head. “Yeah. I guess I did.”

Webby beamed and ran around to the arm of the couch, throwing arms around Lena from behind. “Wha — jeez, Pink, take it easy!”

She was laughing though, so it couldn’t be that big of a deal.

Beakley stood in the door, watching the two girls with a small smile. She’d come out to scold them both, but stopped when she heard Lena talking about her nightmares. It was so  _ rare _ that she ever went into any detail. If Beakley had interrupted, it probably would have shut her down.

“If you’re not both at the table in five minutes, you’ll be doing all the dishes for the night,” she informed them sternly when Webby went to hug Lena.

“Yes ma’am,” both girls said, quickly standing and hurrying out of the room. Beakley turned to follow, pausing when she realized Lena had left her sketchpad behind. The urge to look at what she had drawn was… tempting. So much could be expressed through art. What was Lena trying to say?

In the end, she put the sketchpad on top of a shelf, out of reach, so no one could look. Lena would talk when she was ready.


	16. Divine Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What good is knowing gods and goddesses if you don't ask them to help your shadow child?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a chapter I'm still REALLY not sure about, so, ya know, if you like it....

“So did we steal the Sun Chaser?”

“Cloud Slayer. And no. I  _ borrowed _ it without asking.”

“Where are we going?” Dewey was excited, of course. But he was  _ always _ excited to go somewhere with Della.

“Just to see an old friend.”

“Why didn’t we tell Uncle Scrooge, then?”

“Well, the friend lives somewhere that Scrooge isn’t exactly… welcome.”

“That narrows it down,” Lena said dryly. She was the only one who was sitting, firmly buckled in, legs tucked up under herself. She didn’t take chances with flying.

“Seriously, that’s about three-fourths of the world,” Louie agreed. Della laughed.

“True. You guys know Storkules, right? Have you ever met his sister?”

“Selene?” Dewey and Webby lit up. Della grinned.

“That’s her. A not-so-little birdy told me his sister could use some cheering up and, well… no time like the present, right?”

“Wait, so we’re going to Ithaquack?”   


“We’re going to Ithaquack.”

The kids, minus Lena, cheered. “So these are the… Greek gods, right?” the teen asked slowly.

“Yup. You know ‘em?”

“No, but I know the stories about the Roman equivalents.” That earned her four very bewildered looks from the kids. “What? I’m allowed to know things. I also speak five languages, not that anyone’s ever bothered to ask.”

“You just never seem like the type,” Huey said. “Wait, five?”

Lena held up a hand to count off. “Italian, Sumerian, French, Spanish, Latin… okay, six if you count English.”

“Who speaks  _ Sumerian _ ?”

“The witch who’s shadow I came out of,” Lena said. “Most of what I know is carryover from her. I also have a knack for picking things up after reading them once or twice.”

“I didn’t know that,” Webby said quietly. How could she not know that about her best friend? Lena shrugged.

“No one ever asked. Tell you what else I know, gods and goddesses tend to  _ not  _ like abominations of nature.”

Della turned to frown at her. “Don’t—”

“Please pay attention.” Lena’s voice hopped up a few notches.

“Are you really afraid of flying?” Louie sounded amused.

“Most of my flying experience has been in wheel wells. I’m not afraid of flying, I have a healthy respect for anything that can kill me. And that includes gods and goddesses.”

“Selene wouldn’t hurt you,” Della said firmly. “We’ll just… avoid Zeus. Shouldn’t be hard, he never comes off his cloud.”

They landed on a sandy beach, and Lena seriously considered just staying in the plane while the boys ran ahead. Webby was waiting, though, and Della was watching her.

“No one is going to hurt you. I  _ promise _ .”

Lena sighed, unbuckling. “Okay, but if I die, I’m haunting  _ your _ shadow.”

“Deal.”

The boys had dispersed to do whatever it was they did to get in trouble around the island. Della decided it was better not to know. She simply wrapped an arm around Lena’s shoulders and turned her toward Selene’s temple.

“So Selene doesn’t know you’re back?” Webby asked curiously. She remembered the way the goddess had spoke of her old friend. There had been so much love in her voice.

Della rubbed the back of her neck, grimacing. “I asked Storkules not to tell her. I wanted to do this on my terms but… it’s hard to pick up your pride and hand it over to someone else. Also I don’t want her to get upset that I was the  _ moon _ this entire time and she didn’t know.”

“Oh. Yeah. That might be a little embarrassing.” Webby rubbed the back of her head. “But she’ll be happy to see you.”

“I hope so.”

Lena looked around as they walked up to the temple, tilting her head. “Hey, isn’t this where you took that lamp guy?”

“Djinn!” Webby giggled. “Scrooge stole a family heirloom of his,” she added to Della, “and Louie sold it, so Selene let us use the temple to set obstacles to stall him while the boys tried to track the thing down.”

“It was Webby’s destiny.”

“That must’ve been fun.” Della laughed.

“The lighting was wonky and I missed a bit,” Lena said. “What I saw was great, though.”

Webby looked at Lena out of the side of her eye. She forgot sometimes how much Lena had witnessed while in her shadow. It was getting easier for her to talk about, though.

“Wait, where are we going?” Webby asked as they diverted around to the back of the temple.

“Secret entrance. Unless she took it out. Get around the trial of heroes junk.”

They walked halfway around the back, and Della stopped, pressing a brick. It slid in easily, revealing a door. “Ha!” Della grinned, clapping her hands together. “She’s so predictable.”

“Man, wish Dewey and I had known about this the first time we came here,” Webby said as they started down the hall. We almost died jumping on those pillars.” She paused. “Don’t tell him that.”

“She used the  _ pillars _ ?” Della shook her head. “Honestly.”

They reached the end of the hall, and Della carefully pushed the door open a crack to see where they had come out. “Perfect.”

They slipped out and into another hall, where a door waited at the end. Della had to walk slow to make sure her metal leg didn’t clink against the floor, but they got there eventually. Della peeked in to see the goddess sitting on her pedestal, an orb in her hand, finger flicking across it. Della gestured for the girls to wait and slinked into the room, getting right behind Selene.

“Gotcha!”

Selene yelped as Della tackled her from behind, nearly bending her in half. “What in the — Della, what’re you—?! ...Della?!”

The goddess squealed, jumping up and grabbing Della, nearly lifting her off the floor. “You’re — how—?”

“Oh, long story.” Della waved her off and pulled away to grin at her friend. “Are you  _ crying _ ?”

“No!” Selene shoved Della, and she laughed. “When Dewey said you were gone, I thought…”

Della’s smile faded. “Yeah. I uh. I did something kind of dumb. Oh, Webby, Lena, you coming?”

Webby immediately darted in, bouncing. “Hi Selene!”

Lena, on the other hand, was still half hovering in the shadows. Selene saw her, then tilted her head at Della, who sighed. “She… has trust issues.”

Webby went back to take Lena’s hand, tugging her gently. “It’s okay, I promise,” she said, pulling her along. Lena ducked her head, shoulders hunched up.  _ Gods and goddesses don’t like abominations of nature _ .

“Did Scrooge pick up another child?” Selene asked, amused.

“He picked her up, but she’s mine.” Della rested a hand on Lena’s shoulder. “Selene, this is Lena. Lena, Selene.”

The teen lifted her head just enough for her eyes to meet Selene’s before she quickly looked away. Her right hand moved to her left, a finger hooking on her bracelet, and she tugged. “Lenaaaaa.” Webby took her hand again, squeezing tight. She knew Lena’s anxious ticks. “Do you really think I’d let you go near anyone who would hurt you?”

Selene was bewildered. “Why would I hurt anyone?”

Lena and Della exchanged looks, and Lena finally nodded. Della sighed. “Are you… familiar with Magica de Spell?”

The goddess’ expression immediately darkened. “The witch who abuses the moon for powers?”

Lena immediately took three steps back before Della or Webby could stop her. “Sounds right, I think.” Della tried to reach for Lena, but she stayed out of reach. “I was still… gone when everything with the eclipse happened—”

“Oh yes, I’m  _ very _ familiar with her.” Selene’s tone was dark in a way Della had never heard it. “She made an absolute mess of the natural alignments with that stunt she pulled.”

“We’ll add you to the list of people who gets to punch her when we find her,” Della assured her. “Anyways, Lena here is… um… honestly I'm not entirely sure how to describe it.”

“She was originally made from Magica’s shadow after Scrooge trapped her in his number one dime,” Webby explained. “But Magica tried to get rid of her so she latched on to  _ my _ shadow instead and… well, now she’s here.”

Selene’s expression softened, eyes fixed on Lena, who still looked half ready to bolt. Dealing with any trial was better than facing down a goddess. 

“Oh.” Selene knelt, putting herself at eye level with Lena. “During the fight with Scrooge. That was over sixteen years ago now, wasn’t it?”

“More or less.” Lena moved her hand in a back and forth motion. “Dates are a bit questionable. For the sake of simplicity we say I’m sixteen.”

“I knew she did something during that eclipse.” Selene shook her head. “When I heard Scrooge had dealt with her I thought that was the end of it, but something was… off that night.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Lena muttered bitterly. “Messing with the natural alignment of the universe since the day Magica pulled me out of her shadow.”

“ _ You _ are not responsible for Magica’s actions,” Selene replied. “Is that why you’re afraid?” Lena shrugged. “That witch has been on my radar far, far longer than any of you have been alive, and has spent most of that time angering gods and goddesses all over the world.”

“Sounds right,” Lena said before she could stop herself. Selene smiled.

“She’s used many people and left  _ many _ victims in her wake. You’re another in a long line, and you’re no more responsible for the things she made you do than anyone before you. That said, yes, please put me on the list of people who get to punch her.”

Della smirked. “All right, but the line is long. Webby gets a first go, and if she’s still standing after that it’s me, Scrooge, Donald, Beakley, and the boys.”

“Add Storkules too, I’m sure he’ll want to—” Selene cut herself off, eyes wide. “Wait!” She shot back up. “Isn’t he living on your brother’s boat?!  _ Does he know you’re back _ ?!”

Della laughed nervously. “I asked him not to tell you, I just… really needed to do this on my own terms. I’ve made a _lot_ of mistakes, ya know? And I’m trying to do that thing where I grow up and take responsibility and apologize to the people I hurt, but… you know me.”

“If it doesn’t involve risking your your life, you can’t deal with it.” Della nudged her, smiling. “Will you tell me what happened. Please?”

Della took a deep breath, looking back at Lena, who gave her a small smile in return. “I guess if you’ll let me tell your story, it’s only fair I tell mine.” She gestured for everyone to sit. “So I designed this ship, I wanted to go to the moon — of course I named it the Spear of Selene…”

Webby and Lena already knew the story, so they tuned out. Webby chose instead to focus on calming down Lena, who was still shaking slightly. “Selene’s good,” Webby whispered, pressing into Lena’s side and squeezing her hand.

“You were  _ stuck _ on the  _ moon _ ?!”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the other reason I didn’t want to tell you…”

“How could I not  _ know about this?! _ ”

“It’s no big deal Selene, really—”

“It is  _ absolutely  _ a big deal!” Selene stood, huffing, and waved a hand, and the entire solar system exploded to life above them.

“ _ Whoa _ ,” Webby and Lena breathed, leaning forward.

“That…”

“Is…”

“ _ Gorgeous _ ,” they finished together. Selene spared them a small smile before waving her hand again and pulling the moon into full view.

“Oh, yeah, there’s my compound!” Della pointed to a metal bump on the moon’s surface. 

“How…”

Selene looked down at Della, noticing her leg for the first time. “ _ Della _ …”

“What?” Della followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah, lost it in the crash. This is actually an updated version.” She knocked a fist against the metal. “The first one was made of rocket parts. Scrooge thought it was ingenious, but he wanted me to have something slightly better.”

“I could find someone to heal—”

“I don’t need to be  _ healed _ , Selene.” Della gently redirected Selene’s gaze. “Look at me. I’m good. I’m home. I’m back with my boys, and my brother, and my uncle. I adopted a freaking kid. I mean, it was mostly for legal reasons, but I’m pretty fond of her, too. It’s just a leg. I’ve adapted. Okay?”

Selene sighed, tugging Della in for a hug. “Okay. And I guess I can forgive you for hiding from me.” She waved a hand, whisking the solar system away. “But you owe me at least ten years worth of visits. And bring those boys with you!”

“Oh, I did, they’re running around the island. Louie was saying something about grapes, and Dewey didn’t get a chance to explore last time he was here so I think Huey’s taking him around. I’m sure we can track them down before we leave.”

“I’d like that. In the mean time, there’s one other thing I’d like to address.” She turned back to Lena, who shrank back a bit despite herself. “It’s okay, dear. But do you mind if I ask you a few questions about your current… physical state? Are you aware of the unstable magic around you?”

“I…” Lena looked down, then back at Selene. “No, not really? I’ve never had much of a sense for my own magic though. I can pick out others.”

“Isn’t that usually how it works. How exactly did you get your physical body back after you attached yourself to Webby’s shadow?”

“Um… well, our friend Violet found Magica’s amulet, the thing that gave me her powers for so long, and she and Webby were messing around with magic and next thing I know it’s flying into my chest.” She pressed her hand to the place it had disappeared into her. “And then… I don’t know. Something else gave it power to reform a physical body. It’s a questionable existence. I can go in and out of the shadow realm more or less at will. We're not really sure _what_ I am.”

Selene took a few steps forward, kneeling in front of Lena again. “I know we’ve just met and it’s asking a lot, but something tells me Della didn’t bring you just to use you as her shield.” They looked at Della, who smiled crookedly.

“I thought Selene might be able to help you. She’s the closest thing we have to magic.”

Lena frowned, looking at Webby, who was rocking anxiously, then at Della. “You trust her?”

“With my life.”

The teen nodded. “Okay.” She turned back to Selene, bracing herself for whatever was to come. 

Selene nodded, holding up her hand up to Lena’s chest. It began glowing, and Lena gasped when her chest did the same. “Hm… this is certainly Magica’s amulet.  _ And _ it’s broken. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was exacerbating certain problems with your body and mind.”

Lena lightened up for a moment. “Wait, like mental stuff? Does that mean if you fix it I won’t be crazy anymore?”

“Hey,” Della chided her gently. “You’re not crazy.”

“If you’ve gone through trauma — and with Magica, I’m  _ sure _ you have — then that’s something you have to handle on your own. The unstable amulet inside you is more like poking an already bleeding wound with a stick. The wound is going to bleed no matter what, but poking it is just going to make it worse. Mental trauma is the bleeding wound. The broken amulet is the stick that keeps poking it. If we fix the stick, you may have a chance to heal.”

“Can you… Can you do that?”

Selene met her gaze. “Do you acknowledge that this isn’t going to immediately fix any trauma-related issues you have and that you still have a long road ahead of you?” Lena nodded. “Okay. Hold still. This might feel weird.”

_ Weird _ wasn’t quite the way Lena would put it. She gasped, shivering, as the amulet slowly slid out of her chest.

“Lena!”

Della grabbed Webby, holding her gently. “It’s okay. Selene knows what she’s doing.”

 

“Does she?”

“She wouldn’t be messing around like this if she didn’t.”

Lena stared, mouth hanging open, as the amulet hovered in front of them, turning slowly for Selene to examine. “Hmph. Sumerian, I assume?” Lena nodded, terrified to speak. Or maybe unable. “A natural crystal for shadow magic. Not impossible to work with, though.” She waved a hand a hand, summoning up a small vial of white liquid. “Let’s see now…”

The liquid very gently began lining itself along the crack of the amulet. It wasn’t  _ fixing _ the amulet — simply filling in the cracks. Patching it up. "There we go.” Selene smiled as she finished, showing Lena the repaired amulet. “Ready?” Lena nodded, and the amulet drifted back to her, passing through her chest. Lena gasped, letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, and the room spun.

“Whoops, I’ve got you.” Selene caught Lena as she stumbled forward. “I can’t even imagine how disorienting it must be. You’ll probably feel a bit out of sorts for a day or two. If something goes  _ really _ wrong, you can come back and I’ll reverse it all.”

“What… What was that you used to fill the crack?”

“Liquefied moonstone.” Selene smiled. “As much as you don’t want to think about it, you have a connection to the moon, just like Magica. Although I suspect you won’t abuse it  _ nearly _ as much. But it gives you strength. And moonstone is good for helping to stabilize emotions and ease stress.”

Webby finally ran forward, hugging Lena tight. “You okay?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Lena muttered, wavering uncertainly. “I’ve just… never imagined what it would be like for someone to take the amulet out.”

“I tried to make it as painless as possible. Oh!” Selene snapped her fingers, summoning up a white crystal ring. “It doesn’t hurt to have some external stress relief as well.”

Moonstone, Lena figured as she took it. She slipped her pendant off — the one Della had given her for Christmas, fittingly enough — and slid the chain through the ring before hooking it back around her neck. It was perfect. Lena gave her a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Annoying that witch is the only thank you I need.”

Webby giggled, tugging Lena’s hand. “Come on, let’s find the boys.”

“Okay — wait, Webby, is this the way toward the death traps?!”

Della and Selene chuckled as they watched the girls run out. Selene turned to Della, giving her a sad smile. “You didn’t just bring her here for help, did you?”

“Like I said, I thought you could—”

“Della, I know you better than anyone, except maybe Donald. Just admit you’re not okay and let me help.”

Della stared at Selene for a long moment before sighing and collapsing onto the pedestal. “Got any more of that moonstone?”

* * *

 

“Are you  _ sure _ you’re okay?”

“Not after going across those spikes I’m not!”

“Oh, I wasn’t going to let you fall.” Webby waved her off, still eyeing her anxiously. Selene taking the amulet had been a bit of a surreal moment for both of them. “How does it feel?”

“I don’t know… weird.” Lena pressed a hand to her chest, making a face. “Like… Like waking up from a dream and not realizing I’m awake. Except I’m just sort of wandering on the line in between.” She shook her head, refocusing. “You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, sorta.” They stepped out of the temple, and Lena covered her eyes, wincing. “That weird, dreamy feeling, right?”

“Something like that. Webs, hang on, can we sit for a minute?”

Webby immediately stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean, the thing that keeps me alive was kind of just pulled out of my chest. It’s weird. I need a sec.”

They found a stone bench to sit on; Lena pulled the pendant and ring out from under her shirt, rubbing her thumb absentmindedly against the amulet. “When she said she could fix it… I really hoped for a minute she meant she could fix  _ me _ .”

“You’re not broken or cracked,” Webby said, nudging her. “You just need to give yourself more time.”

“It’s been over a year.”

“Over a year since you  _ died _ and then came back to life, after fifteen years of Magica abusing you.” They had more or less agreed that abuse was on the list of acceptable words to say out loud. Depression and anxiety were almost there. PTSD was still a long ways off. “ It’s okay to still not be okay. Uncle Scrooge said there’s no easy fix.”

“I  _ know _ , Pink.” Lena sighed. “I’m allowed to be frustrated, though.”

Webby paused, eyes dropping to her fingers. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry. I just hate it when you get down on yourself.”

Lena nudged against Webby, resting her head on Webby’s shoulder. They’d both grown in the past year. It was so weird to think about. “I’m trying to work on that.”

“Good. No one’s allowed to be mean to you. Not even you.”

Webby wrapped both arms around Lena, hugging her tight, and Lena smiled. “I really don’t deserve you.”

“You really do.”

They ended up sitting on that bench until Della and Selene emerged from the temple, arm in arm and laughing. If Della looked a bit puffy-eyed, no one said anything.

“Hey, you guys heard any explosions?” They both shook their heads. “Hmn. Where are my kids, then?”

“You’ll just have to come back and visit some other time,” Selene said slyly. “How terrible.”

“You  _ could _ help me track them down.”

Lena grabbed Webby’s hand, gently tugging her away before—

“Don’t even think about it, you two are  _ not _ leaving me alone to search this entire place for them.”

Well. They’d tried.


	17. Weightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's the mundane things that are the most overwhelming. Like simply having a body.

Having a real body was  _ strange _ .

Lena wasn’t sure  _ why _ that was — she’d had a real body for fifteen years and had only spent six months in the shadow realm. But being a shadow had been effortless. Easy. Having a real body was too much work. She needed to remember to eat — Beakley was trying to get her on some kind of eating schedule since she couldn’t be trusted to actually know when she was hungry. She had to remember to sleep, which was  _ hard _ sometimes. She  _ might _ have walked into a wall once or twice, forgetting that she couldn’t walk  _ through _ them anymore. Thankfully no one saw. Or they didn’t comment. That was smart of them.

There were a lot of inconvenient things about having a real body, and sometimes it just got overwhelming. Being around  _ people _ got overwhelming. Lights and sounds and god, how had she survived before?

The worst part sometimes was just… having  _ weight _ . Mass. She’d been so used to being nothing that sometimes she felt too heavy. It was weird.

She had discovered one thing that helped, however — water. There was a boat in the pool, of course, so she couldn’t go swimming or anything, but just putting her legs in the water and letting them float was nice. For a little while she could just sit there and  _ be _ without worry. The way it had been.

It was another no-sleep night, and even lying in bed playing on her phone had felt like too much, so Lena had finally dragged herself up and out to the backyard, sitting at the edge of the pool. She leaned back on her arms and watched her legs, happy to just disconnect for a moment.

“Lena?”

Whoops. She looked up, heart momentarily jumping into her throat when she saw the shadow cast over her. But it was just Donald. “Oh. Hey.” Her voice was weak as she tried to recover from the momentary panic; she shook her head. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, ya know, intrude.”

“Not my pool.” Donald chuckled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t sleep.” Lena shrugged. “I’m sure Beakley’s told you about that.” She was well aware the adults exchanged notes on their different interactions with her. And there was no point in trying to pretend in front of Donald, who had already seen her at her absolute worst.

“She might have mentioned it.” Donald leaned on the edge of the boat. “What’re you doing?”

“Um… just sitting.”

“Outside. At the pool. After midnight.” Donald raised an eyebrow, looking down at Lena, who sighed in return.

“You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

Everyone in this family was so  _ stubborn _ . “I just… like the way the water makes me feel,” she started slowly. “Like you know how when you’re swimming you can just float, and it feels kind of like you’re weightless?” Donald nodded. “I like that feeling. It’s as close as I can get to feeling like I did when I was a shadow. Not that I miss being invisible to the living world,” she added quickly. “But I got used to… being able to float around and go through walls and not having…” she waved her hands vaguely. “ _ This _ . Not being me. Not being a person with needs and basic necessities. Even before…  _ before _ .” Talking about what had happened with Magica was still hard. Lena wasn’t sure it would ever be easy. “I never had to worry too much about things like eating, staying hydrated, blah blah blah. It was  _ better _ if I had them, but being a homeless teeanger makes it hard to get them. If I had to go a week or two without a meal or something, no big deal. Now I keel over if I go more than two days without any food. And Beakley is like, Super Grandma-Mom-Caretaker thing, and sometimes it feels like I can’t get a break. So I sit out here, and I put my legs in the pool, and I can just pretend for a minute that nothing is real. That I’m not real. That the last few months haven’t happened, that I’m back in the shadow realm. And that’s not  _ okay _ obviously because being trapped in the shadow realm was terrible, but it was… easy. Easier than all of this, anyways.”

It sounded horrible now that she said it all out loud, like she was ungrateful for everything the family had done for her. But Donald didn’t look like he was judging. “Coming home is hard sometimes,” he said thoughtfully. It was weird how wise that voice could sound. “Even if the things we went through are terrible, they started to become normal. Della forgets about gravity a lot. For the first year I was home after…” He waved his hand, and Lena nodded in understanding, “I’d wake up at five a.m., every morning, go through my entire morning routine before the six o’clock roundup… and then realize I was in Scrooge’s house and I’d been home for months. Once something becomes normal, it’s hard to create a new idea of that.”

“Heh.” Lena laughed humorlessly, falling back to lie on the grass and stare at the stars. “So am I just always going to be stuck in feeling like I’m just a shadow?”

“I said it was hard, not impossible. And there are things you can do to help. I stopped setting my alarm for five, and if I woke up anyways, I rolled over and went back to sleep. Della jumps up and down a little bit to remind herself she can’t just float wherever she wants.”

Lena looked down at her legs, sighing. “And I’m sitting here with my legs in the water because it helps me disconnect from my body. Great.”

“One step at a time. What do you think you can do to help yourself deal with things?”

“I wish I knew.” She raised a hand to the stars, letting it hang over her head for a minute. “How am I supposed to adjust to have a  _ body _ again?”

“I’m not sure,” Donald admitted. “Different experiences need different coping mechanisms. And there’s no one cure that fixes all. It takes some time to figure out what’s going to work for you.”

“Great.” Nothing was ever easy, of course.

“The basic problem is that your body feels like it isn’t  _ yours _ , right?” Lena nodded. “Maybe you have to reconnect with it. Instead of treating it like it’s a bother, find ways to make  _ yours _ .”

“Maybe I could get a tattoo.”

“Absolutely not.” Lena bit down a laugh. “Find a different way.”

Lena closed her eyes, sighing.  _ Find a way to connect to my body _ … She kicked her legs slowly back and forth as she thought it over. Oh.  _ Oh _ .

“Thanks, Donald,” she said as she stood, shaking her feet one at a time. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

“That was quick.”

“Thinking fast is one of my many talents.” She shot him a grin before turning and running inside. Donald stared after her, shaking his head. All of the kids were weird in their own way, but Lena was on a different level sometimes. And for good reason, Donald reminded himself. He made a note to talk to Scrooge, Della, and Beakley later, just in case Lena’s plan was something stupid. Or dangerous. Or both.

* * *

Webigail Vanderquack was a morning person to an almost  _ annoying _ degree. She bounced out of bed, she made sure she had Lena’s permission before she threw open the curtains to greet the morning, and she sang as she got dressed. She was the  _ worst _ kind of morning person.

But even she had to grumble a little at being woken out of a sound sleep at the crack of dawn. “Lenaaaaa,” she whined, rubbing her eyes. Lena was clearly awake and had been for a while. “What’s wrong?”

“We’re going somewhere.”

“We are?”

“Yeah. Get dressed.”

Oh boy. Webby knew that voice. That was the voice of a Lena who wouldn’t be deterred. Webby yawned as she climbed out of bed. At least she had come to Webby for something.

Lena had dug up an old bike in the garage, probably Della’s or Donald’s when they’d been her age, and after some careful work and a lot of web searches, had made it rideable again. She didn’t ride it that often, and sometimes Webby suspected she’d done all that work just to distract herself. But the feeling of riding down Scrooge’s driveway was undeniably amazing.

“Ready?” Lena asked as she settled on the bike, Webby holding onto her from behind. She didn’t have a bike, and really, she preferred walking or running places. But riding with Lena was fun.

“Mmhm,” Webby mumbled, her cheek pressed against Lena’s back.

“Seriously, Pink, hang on.”

Webby tiredly knotted her fingers together, her arms hanging loosely over Lena’s shoulders.

The ride down the hill woke Webby up a bit — the air wasn’t cold enough to be chilled, but not warm to be uncomfortable, either. It was the perfect time of day. “So, where are we going?” Webby asked as they waited for the gate to open, her chin resting on Lena’s shoulder.

“Not too far,” was the only answer Lena gave.

It was something of a surprise when they rode onto the amphitheater stage. “What are we doing  _ here _ ?” Webby asked, making a face. She hopped off the bike as soon as it stopped, and Lena did the same, kicking down the kickstand so it wouldn’t fall over.

“An experiment.”

Lena led Webby over to an opening in the columns — the place where the Beagle Boys had tied them up the very first night they met. She slipped a drawstring bag off her back, kicked off her shoes, and pulled her sweater over her head. She was wearing a t-shirt she’d probably pilfered from the attic.

“Uh… Lena…?”

Webby’s voice drifted off as she watched the teen run for the edge, and jump into the ocean.

The water was  _ just _ deep enough that Lena only felt her feet skimming the bottom. She let herself float for a moment, enjoying that amazing, weightless feeling, before she kicked back up to the surface. Webby was laying on the edge of the stage, mouth hanging open.

“What are you  _ doing _ ?”

“I couldn’t sleep—” Clearly, “so I went out to the pool. I like putting my legs in the water sometimes because it feels like they’re not really…  _ there _ , you know? Like part of me is a shadow again.”

“Do you…  _ want _ to be a shadow?” Webby asked, concerned.

“No, no, of course not, it’s just that having a physical body is…  _ weird _ after getting used to be weightless. Anyway, Donald was awake, and we were talking, and he suggested finding ways to connect with my body again, and to make it feel like mine. He also said no tattoos. But I thought about it, and realized there’s a simple answer — swimming. It gives me that shadowy weightless feeling, but also requires physical movement and for me to be actively aware of my body.”

Webby’s mouth was hanging open. “That’s… amazing. But why’d you bring me? Not that I mind,” she added quickly. “You know I’m always here for you, but…”

But this really sounded like the kind of thing Lena would run off and try on her own and keep secret until someone caught her sneaking back into the mansion. Her shoulders hunched slightly, and she ducked her head.

“I needed someone to tell me it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a  _ great _ idea,” Webby assured her. “And I’m glad you brought me with you.” Lena relaxed, grinning at Webby. “Well? Go swim!”

“Okay, okay.” Lena laughed as she kicked off in a surprisingly good front crawl — one of her many talents, Webby assumed as she sat up and settled in, ready to watch Lena all morning if it came to that.

She snuck out her phone take a few pictures, though.


	18. Sunrise Musings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Scrooge have a little early-morning bonding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just never happy with the way I write Scrooge, which means so little of what I write with him up front actually gets posted ._.

Lena’s sleep habits were divided into three categories — Sleep, No Sleep, and Drugged Sleep (when Beakley finally gave in and let Lena have a sleeping pill for her own sanity). She had tried keeping track of them using a journal Webby had given her, but there was no rhyme or reason to any of them. She kept track of her moods, her daily habits, how often she went out, and compared them all to how well she had slept that night, but nothing stood out.

On the other hand, sometimes she got some beautiful views of the sunrise. She’d brought her sketch pad out before to draw it. Today it was her lying in the dew-covered glass, journal over her head with a pink shimmer holding it in place so she could have both hands to look between pages.

_ I felt fine yesterday, we went to the movie and I sat through whatever that trash was Dewey made us see _ …

“No Sleep night, I take it?”

Lena jumped, and the journal fell, hitting her in the face. “Ow,” she mumbled, sitting up and looking behind her to see Scrooge on the patio, holding a cup of tea, trying not to laugh.

“Sorry, lass. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Trust me, you’re not scary.” She retrieved her journal and stood, walking over to the patio. “You’re up early, though.”

“Prone to bouts of insomnia myself.” Scrooge gestured for her to join him, and she sat down, setting her journal off to the side.

“Does  _ anyone _ in the house sleep?”

“I believe Webby and the boys are mostly blessed enough to still get eight hours,” Scrooge said dryly. “It would seem anyone over sixteen misses out on that luck.”

“Webby’s  _ weird _ . I’ve dropped things before and she didn’t even twitch. But if I accidentally touch her somehow I risk being flung into a wall.”

Scrooge chuckled. “Sounds like her grandmother. She gave me a black eye in her sleep once.”

“Are you  _ sure _ she was actually asleep?”

“Well… no, actually.” The old man frowned. “I’ll have to have a chat with her about that later…”

Lena smirked, trying to hide behind a fake cough. Scrooge took a sip of his tea, and they fell silent for a moment, watching the sun rise. “Sunrise and sunset were always my favorite times of day,” she said after a moment. Scrooge looked at her, surprised. She wasn’t exactly one to casually reminisce. “It’s the time between darkness and light, you know? That one perfect moment where you can stand just right and have no shadow at all.”  _ Ah _ . Lena crossed her arms on the table and rested her head in her arms, still staring at the sun. “It was the only peace I got sometimes.”

“I can imagine having  _ her _ attached to you didn’t leave much room for quiet,” Scrooge said carefully. He didn’t want to push it too much, but it was so  _ rare _ Lena spoke about any of that. To him, at least. He was sure she talked to Webby more.

“She couldn’t talk out loud for the first two years. I had her in my head twenty-four/seven, though. And you know what she’s like with her monologuing. I don’t even know  _ where _ she got those notecards…”

“You remember that?” Scrooge asked, surprised. His time in the dime still haunted his dreams. He  _ almost _ felt bad for trapping Magica in there for fifteen years. Almost.

“Bits and pieces. I remember her trying to read the notecards, and some hazy parts of the fight up until she tried to kill Webby and Dewey. I’m pretty sure that was an accident. I was never supposed to develop free will or any of that. I didn’t have a name for like… three or four years. I didn’t start keeping track of time until she started coming through my shadow.”

Scrooge hesitated for a moment before finally pushing forward. “Where’d you pick up Lena, then?”

“Um…” She tilted her head, trying to think. “I forget what country I was in… but you know like, baby name books?”

“Yes.” Scrooge sighed, pinching the space between his eyes. “I bought Della five to try and talk her out of Jet, Turbo, and Rebel.”

Lena took a moment to smother a laugh. “I found one, I think it was just left in a park or something, and it’s  _ boring _ just traveling by yourself all the time with a voice in your head. So I took it and I started reading it.  _ Thrilling _ literature, I know. There were a few names I liked, but Lena won out in the end. It means something different in a few different languages and I liked all the definitions.”

“Well, you can’t say that and not tell me what it means.”

She sat up, resting her chin in her hand. “In Arabic languages it means generous and kind. In Latin it’s she who allures. In… Greek, I think, it’s sunlight and moonlight. I think that one’s my favorite.”

“Hm. Moonlight, huh?” Scrooge tilted his head. “I should introduce you to Selene some time.”

“Who?”

“The goddess of the moon. Long story. And her father hates me. Maybe Della can take you some time.”

Lena raised an eyebrow at him. “You know, I’m a sentient shadow brought to life by a crazy witch who used me as her puppet for fifteen years, and you all manage to outstrange my existence every single day.”

“You knew what you were getting into when you moved in with us.”

“True. I’ll accept responsibility for my actions.”

Scrooge chuckled, and Lena smiled in return, resting her head back in her arms. “Hey… Scrooge?” Her voice was surprisingly serious.

“Yes?”

“You’ve… known Magica for a long time, right?”

The M-word. That was a shock. Lena hardly ever used her actual name. “I have,” Scrooge said evenly, putting his mug down. “Far too long, I think sometimes.”

“ Was… she always like that? Crazy and obsessed with power and all that.”

Scrooge sighed. “In a way, yes. More crazy and less crazy at the same time, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Right.” Scrooge frowned, trying to think of the best way to put it. “Magica has always wanted power, and has always wanted me dime. At one time she had her brother to keep her on more of even keel. Not sure what happened to him. She went over the shadow magic edge when he disappeared, though.”

“She has a brother?”

“She did at one time. Poe de Spell. It’s been… oh, twenty or so years since the last time I saw him. Magica disappeared around the same time, and came back a year as… well, the way you know her. Don’t get me wrong, she’s always been a threat. But the shadow magic warped her in a way I don’t think will ever be reversible.”

Lena leaned back in her chair, staring at the rising sun. “So it was the magic that…?”

“Don’t,” Scrooge said firmly. Lena looked up, surprised. “Don’t put that on yourself. You’re not going to turn into her.”

“No, I have powers and she doesn’t. I could be worse than her.”

“But ye won’t be.”

“How do you know?”

“What changed?”

Lena stared at him for a moment, trying to track his train of thought. “What?”

“Ye said ye didn’t have a name, ye weren’t supposed to have free will… what changed?”

Lena sat up, blushing slightly, shoulders hunching. “Webby… I guess.” Scrooge waited patiently. “Has she ever told you about the night we met?”

“I recall it having something to do with crashing Ma Beagle’s birthday.”

“Yup. I swear I didn’t know about the whole thing with her when I took her there, I just knew she was into the whole adventure thing and I thought it would a good way to ease her up. But the party went to hell and we spent half the night running around the city trying not to die… and it was the best I’d ever felt in my entire life.”

“How do you mean?”

“Like… Life before Webby and all of you was  _ boring _ . I didn’t particularly enjoy anything. I wasn’t allowed to have hobbies. Transient lifestyle makes it hard to  _ keep _ anything. I’d go somewhere, I’d hide out for a day or two, then I’d keep going. Or I’d get arrested and sent to another boarding school, which was  _ mind-numbing _ . I learned algebra three different times. And  _ all  _ literature classes assign the same three books no matter where you go. And then I  _ finally _ got here and found out that  _ you _ were a grumpy old recluse who never talked to anyone so  _ that _ was great. So I was just living under that theater for six months and  _ finally _ you did something exciting. I was at the mall and saw the news on a display TV about you finding Atlantis and  _ finally _ got a lead. Watched the kids a bit, zeroed in on Webby, and just waited to get her alone. And she was… actually a lot of fun to be around. I felt more alive that night than I had in my entire… let’s call it life. And the more time I spent with her, the more time I spent here… I started resenting Magica. I never particularly liked her. She was the one who fed me the whole ‘we’re family’ shpeal to keep me under her thumb, so she was an obligation at best. But realizing how messed up it all was…”

She sighed, shaking her head. “That’s how I know ye won’t turn into Magica, or something worse. Because you’ve already had a chance to  _ be _ her, and you turned your back on it. You sacrificed your life to save Webby and Dewey. You love this family. No matter how much you pretend everyone annoys you.”

“You sound  _ really _ sure about that.”

“Donald went through a… Della called it an emo phase.” Scrooge chuckled, taking a sip of his tea. “I learned how to read pretend annoyance and actual, life-threatening annoyance.”

“Did you just compare me to  _ Donald _ ?”

“Not at all.” Scrooge fought down a smile. “I just happen to know that you’re not always as unhappy as you pretend to be.”

The door slid open before Lena could answer, and Beakley peeked out, sighing when she saw Scrooge and Lena. “Does  _ anyone _ in this house sleep? Lena, get something to eat.”

“Yes Colonel Crumpet.” Lena sighed, pushing herself up and grabbing her journal.

“Speaking of sleep, Bentina,” Scrooge said, “do you remember when you  _ accidentally _ punched me in your sleep?”

“Oh, you’re not still on about that, are you?”

“Well I was wondering…”

Lena bit her tongue, trying not to laugh as she ducked around Beakley and going to get a snack out of the cabinet.


	19. The Little Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes it's the little things that make life better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lena's life isn't TOTALLY miserable

It wasn’t all doom and gloom. But the good things were small, and fell off the radar sometimes.

“It’s so comfortable,” Lena said into her new pillow. She had somehow managed to wrap her entire body around it.

“Are you ever going to let it go?” Webby asked, amused.

“Nope.”

“You know you’re getting a whole  _ bed _ too, right?”

“But the pillow is here  _ now _ .”

Webby smiled, shaking her head. She knew this was the first time Lena had gotten anything  _ new _ and this comfortable. The teen was lying in her blanket nest, looking happier than Webby had ever seen her.

“What are you going to do when the bed gets here?”

“If it’s as soft as this? Never move again.”

It wasn’t just simple material things, either. 

“Lena, get something to eat before you run off,” Beakley said absentmindedly as she washed the breakfast dishes. Lena was at the end of the line of kids streaming outside; she paused, looking back Beakley.

“I just ate breakfast.”

“You ate some eggs. It won’t kill you to add a granola bar.”

“Okay, okay…” Lena sighed, going to grab the box of granola bars on the counter. She looked in it, frowned, and put it back.

“Lena—”

“There’s only one left.” 

An answer was on the tip of Beakley’s tongue before she paused. Lena had been homeless.  She had never eaten much on the occasions she had been over for dinner, and other than a few snagged snacks, food had never disappeared.

It was like she knew not to take advantage food and knew how to ration.

“Lena, we have more,” Beakley said gently. “I just went grocery shopping and bought five boxes. And they’re all yours. No one else likes blueberry.”

Lena looked uncertainly between Beakley and the box for a moment before finally taking the granola bar. “Okay, fine.”

She hurried after the others. Beakley watched them out the back window, sighing. Something else to keep an eye on. But at least she had listened.

* * *

 

“What’s that?”

Scrooge raised an eyebrow. “I believe it’s a cellphone. I could be wrong, however, it’s quite hard to keep up with all the technology coming out—”

“ _ Please _ no ‘back in my day’ lectures,” Louie groaned. They were all in the rec room, watching the boys play video games. Scrooge glowered at his nephew before turning his attention back to Lena. She was staring at the phone in his hand in disbelief.

“You’re just… giving me a phone?”

“Blasted thing is the only reliable way of getting ahold of anyone. And I like for my kids to be reachable.”

“I’m not one of your kids,” Lena said without thinking. Webby giggled, nudging her shoulder.

“Just take the phone, silly.”

Lena hesitated, as if trying to figure out what Scrooge’s angle was, but finally she slowly took the phone. “Thanks,” she said, still frowning a little. Scrooge smiled.

“Pick up when someone calls. That’s all I ask.”

Webby tackled Lena from the side, giggling as she held her tight and grabbed the phone. “Hey! What’re you—”

“You need a good background. Smile!”

Scrooge chuckled, shaking his head as he left the girls to customizing Lena’s phone.

* * *

“Dewey’s turn to help with dishes!” Louie yelled as he and Huey ran out of the room.

“Hey!”

“I’ll help,” Lena spoke up.

“Nope, dishes are for the boys,” Webby sang, wrapping both her arms around one of Lena’s  and tugging her out of the dining room as well. Lena raised an eyebrow at her. “Granny and Uncle Scrooge and Donald gave us certain chores to do, ya know, so the whole living in a mansion thing doesn’t go to anyone’s head.”

“You can just say it’s Louie’s fault.”

Webby giggled. “The boys are used to that kind of stuff because they did it when they were living with Donald, and I helped Granny with stuff sometimes. The boys are always on dish duty.”

“What do you do?”

“Dusting.” Webby waved a hand around. “I can get in a lot of small places that Granny can’t reach. She does wish I’d stop using the grappling gun though.”

Beakley caught Lena a few days later. “Ah, perfect timing Lena. I need some help getting the clean laundry to where it needs to be. You can leave the baskets in the rooms. If they want to live out of a laundry basket, that’s their choice.”

“Yes ma’am Colonel Crumpet.”

It was easy to tell why Beakley wanted help with the laundry. The boys had four baskets between the three of them, and going up the stairs to their room was hell. She and Webby had two baskets, which she left in the library. And figuring out where towels and sheets were kept was nearly impossible. All and all it took nearly two hours to get everything sorted out. Lena was exhausted, and went up to the loft to drop into her amazingly comfortable bed. Webby could put stuff away.

It was a week later, while returning from an outing with the kids, when Lena found money on the small table next to her bed. “Is this yours?” she asked, leaning around the stairs leading up to Webby’s bed and to find Webby at her desk.

“What?” Webby looked over her shoulder. “Oh, no, it’s allowance day.”

“Allow what?”

“Allowance. Money. We’re not  _ just _ free labor, they pay us for chores. Something something value of hard work, ya know?”

Lena flopped back on her bed, staring at the ten-dollar bill. “Doesn’t feel like I really  _ earned _ this. And I don’t need charity.”

“You said you helped Granny with laundry, right? That’s a pretty big deal. And if Granny says you earned it, then you earned it.”

“I  _ guess _ …” Lena was still frowning. Maybe she’d feel a little better after a few weeks of doing this. Besides, when had she  _ ever _ had money that was her own to do whatever she wanted? She couldn’t complain about this.

* * *

 

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“I think there’s something wrong with  _ all _ of us.”

Della and Lena had become insomniac buddies, of sorts. Sometimes they’d meet in the kitchen, sometimes they would just hang out in Della’s room. That night it was the latter, with Della’s curtains drawn back — for the first time Lena had ever seen — so she could sit in the nook and watch her brother’s boat. The kitchen light was on. He was up late as well.

“Funny.” Lena flopped down to lie on her stomach, pillow tucked under her. “You know what I mean.”

Yes. Yes she did. “None of this is easy, Lena. And you’ve got an extra level of trauma over me and Donald, considering what Magica put you through.”

“Great, so I’m the broken one.”

“No.” Della turned to give Lena a fierce look. It was absolutely the look of someone thinking  _ I will destroy anyone who hurts one of my babies _ . “You’re  _ hurt _ . And it’s okay to let yourself feel that hurt.”

“Do  _ you _ ever let yourself feel anything?”

“It’s different.” Lena raised an eyebrow, and Della sighed, standing. “Come on. Don’t worry, we’re not going far.”

They walked across the room, to a bit of wall cover by a curtain. Della hesitated before pulling the curtain back, revealing dents and cracks in the plaster. Lena blinked, staring at it. “What…?”

“I have a lot of energy.” Della shrugged. “And I know I need a better outlet than hitting the wall — I try to work on the plane a lot, that keeps me busy, but everyone would get suspicious if I was in the hangar twenty-four/seven. And sometimes it’s just too much. I need something to occupy my hands and my head.”

“So… you hit the wall.”

“Like I said, I’m working on something healthier. I just don’t know  _ what _ , yet.” She slid the curtain back into place, shaking her head. “The point is, we’ve all got stuff to deal with. You don’t stand out more than anyone else, you just haven’t found the right way to cope yet.”

“I’ve tried  _ everything _ .”

“Really? Every single thing in the world? That’s impressive.”

Lena kicked Della’s shin lightly, and she let a fake yelp, feigning pain. “Oh please, I hit the metal one.” Lena rolled her eyes, going back to the bed. “What if there isn’t anything? What do I do then?”

“You remember you have a family that loves you and will be there for you no matter what happens.” Della sat with her, ruffling her hair. Lena put up a show of protest, but that was all it was. A fake protest from a teenager who, after fifteen years, was finally getting the love she deserved.

* * *

“What do I do for  _ fun _ ?”

“Yeah. You know, besides deadly adventures and getting on a plane with Launchpad.”

Scrooge chuckled, lowering his paper to meet Lena’s gaze head-on. “Well my  _ normal _ idea of fun is relaxing in my office with some tea and good music.”

“Uuuuuuuugh, that’s such an old person answer,” Lena groaned, burying her face in her hands. “So what, you just go zero to sixty? No hobbies or anything?”

“If ya want hobbies, talk to Donald. He’s always been interested tinkerin’ and keepin’ his hands busy. He built that boat pretty much from scratch.”

Okay, that  _ was _ impressive. “Donald. Got it. Thanks Scrooge.”

“Good to know you have a  _ few _ manners.” But he was smiling, so Lena figured she wasn’t in too much trouble.

Donald was out on the deck of his boat, sweeping, which was weird. How could he keep the deck clean? “Uh… permission to come aboard?”

The older duck looked over his shoulder, and chuckled. “Of course.” Lena climbed up the ramp, kicking her shoes on the edge to make sure they were clean before she stepped fully onto the deck. “What’s up?”

“I um…” Lena rubbed the back of her head, not sure how to put this. Asking for help was  _ really _ not her area of expertise. “Scrooge told me you built this thing yourself,” was what she finally settled for.

“Pretty much. I got it from a junkyard and fixed it all up. It survived fifteen years before Dewey blew it up.”

Lena coughed to hide a laugh. Webby had told her that story. “That’s… pretty amazing.”

“And yet I feel like you’re here to talk about something else.”

“I used to be so good at keeping secrets.” Donald gave her an indulgent smile, and she sighed. “I was talking to Della—”

“Anything she says, she’s being a hypocrite.”

Lena remembered the dented wall. “Yeah, she is. But she’s not wrong. We were talking about how it feels to be caught up in your head and have too much energy.”

“Did she show you her wall?”

“Yeah. But she said something about needing an outlet that kind of stuck with me. And Scrooge said you’d be the best person to ask since you like keeping your hands busy, and everyone else’s idea of  _ fun _ is running off to a cursed haunted zombie mansion temple.”

His sister really was the  _ biggest _ hypocrite. Donald sighed inwardly. “Actually… I think I might have an idea for you.”

“That was quick.”

“Don’t get too excited, you might hate it.” He started down the ramp, and Lena followed, compelled by curiosity if nothing else. They went back into the mansion and down the hall to a door that was vaguely familiar to Lena.

“Wait, isn’t that the garage?”

“Hmn? Oh, yeah, Scrooge said he took all the cursed stuff out.”

“And you  _ believe _ him?”

“I know what I’m looking for, it’ll be fine.”

They went in, and Donald opened the door leading out to the driveway before he began poking through some various piles. Lena watched him uncertainly, waiting for something to blow up. “Aha!” He finally declared victory as he dug a rusty, clearly old bike out from the pile. “It’s either mine or Della’s…” He inspected closely. “Probably Della’s. She didn’t take very good care of it. But if you want something to keep you occupied, this is a great start.”

Lena tilted her head, thinking it over. She could probably figure out from the internet had to put the thing back together…

“I don’t know what tools to use.”

Donald grinned. “I can help with that.”

* * *

 

“Where’s Lena?” Beakley asked wearily. She wasn’t looking forward to fighting the girl about coming to dinner. Everyone automatically looked at Webby, who shrugged.

“I haven’t seen her since breakfast. Violet came over, and she said she didn’t want to mess with magic stuff.”

“She  _ is _ magic stuff.”

Scrooge was whistling as he made his way down the hall, toward the dining room. He stopped when he saw the garage door open. “Bless me bagpipes,” he mumbled, walking to the door. “I thought I locked this?”

He peeked out, surprised to see that the outside door was also open. And there was Lena, sitting in the driveway with an overturned bike, her eyes focused on her phone for a moment before looking up, and she began tinkering with something. She was so wrapped up in her work, she didn’t even notice Scrooge. That was impressive; she was always hyper-aware of everything.

He smiled, backing away and leaving her alone. Beakley could gripe at her about eating later.


	20. Learning to Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena joins Webby and Beakley on a training weekend. She's gotten too acclimated to the mansion, clearly.

“You know, maybe this was a bad idea…”

“You said you wanted to be able to help if there’s ever an invasion at the mansion,” Beakley reminded Lena.

“Actually I said  _ when _ . And I  _ know _ , I just…” Lena looked around the small encampment they’d set up for their training weekend.

“It’ll be fine,” Webby assured her, taking her hand and smiling. “You’ll be great.”

“We’ll be working on defense for now, until I can figure out a way to safely help you use your magic to fight. I’d rather not have you aiming at me.”

“Understandable,” Lena muttered, looking at her hand. She’d done some damage with her magic in the past.

“Ready, Webby?”

“Ready.” Webby grinned, sliding into her ready-to-fight posture. Lena swallowed hard and took a step back, slipping into her shadow.  _ This _ was going to be the hardest part. She’d gotten used to watching the world from a shadow’s point of view, but she had no idea how she was going to judge when it would be a good time to jump up and fend Beakley off.

Watching them fight really was something else. They never aimed to  _ hurt _ one another, of course, but the punches were just as quick and just as sharp as they would be in a real fight. The first time Lena had witnessed one of these training sessions had been about a week after the Shadow War, when Beakley had brought Webby out to work off some of her emotions. Webby had been slightly bruised from multiple fumbles and hitting trees, and it had all ended with her crying in her grandmother’s arms.

Webby ducked, jumping back, and Lena grumbled inwardly, making a note to talk to her about backflips if they were going to fight with Lena hiding in Webby’s shadow. It completely messed up her perspective. She landed, and Lena tried to refocus and find Beakley, but now her head was spinning.

“Ugh, pause,” she groaned, slipping out of the shadow and settling on the ground to hold her head.

“Are you okay?” Webby asked, fight already forgotten.

“Yeah, but you’re gonna have to lay off the fancy backflips and twirls if I’m in your shadow. It’s hard enough being two-dimensional and trying to track a three-dimensional world without you adding a panoramic spin to it.”

“That’s the kind of thing we’re here to figure out,” Beakley said approvingly. Webby sat down with Lena, frowning.

“What  _ is _ it like? Trying to see things from my shadow?”

“It’s like…” Lena took a moment to figure out the best way to explain it. “You have no peripheral vision. You can basically only see what’s in front of you. Lie on your back.” Webby did as she was told. “Colonel Crumpet, can you stand at her feet?”

“I  _ do _ have a name, you know,” Beakley reminded her dryly as she moved to stand over Webby. She’d given up this fight long ago. It was just part of their relationship.

“All right Pink, now try to look at your grandmother without moving your head.”

It took Webby a minute to get her eyes to go the way she wanted them to go, and even then she was clearly struggling. “I think this is giving me a headache.”

“You’re straining your eyes to look at things at an angle they’re not supposed to,” Lena said, giving Webby a nudge to signal that she could sit up. “It distorts everything. And that’s the only view I have of what’s going on.”

Webby nodded slowly. “Okay. No more twirls or back flips if I can help it. Wanna try again?”

“Sure.” They stood, Lena slipping easily back into the shadow. Eye strain was something she didn’t have to worry about, at least — the merits of not having an actual body or eyeballs to strain. She watched them fight for a few more minutes before an opening finally caught her attention. Webby had put some space between herself and Beakley, and Beakley was coming in with another punch.

A pink shield sprang to life between them as Lena popped back up, eyes glowing. Beakley stopped immediately, tilting her head.

“Impressive, Lena.”

“I aim to please.” Lena dropped the shield, her eyes returning to normal.

“What made you decide that was the best time to jump in?”

“Um…” She bit her lip, trying to think. “Webby looked like she was trying to get back to regroup or something, so I thought I would buy her a couple seconds.”

Beakley nodded. “You two should work on non-verbal cues so Lena knows when to act. That was a good call.”

They spent about two hours training, and Lena’s non-existent head was really starting to hurt as they went on. She probably should have been concerned when the world started to blur.

“Lena?” She heard her name being called. “Lena!”

Oh, right. That was her. She forced herself out of Webby’s shadow, currently against a tree, and stumbled to her knees. “That’ll be another thing to work on,” Beakley said, producing a granola bar from who knew where. “You’re using magic, trying to stay aware, and hiding in a shadow. You need to make sure you’ve eaten well and gotten enough sleep before you push it too much.”

“Right, right.” Lena sighed, eating the granola bar almost in one bite. Blueberry. Her favorite. Beakley got another one. She took a little more time to eat that one.

“Why don’t you sit and watch for a while? And drink some water.”

Lena saluted wearily, going over to the cooler, getting a water bottle, and sitting down on the lid, watching Beakley and Webby go at it. She could look at almost any situation, evaluate it, and figure out her next best move. But not something like this. If someone as tall and menacing as Beakley ever came at her, she’d run. But of course that wasn’t an option here. So what could she do to give Webby an advantage…

Her eyes lit up as something finally came to mind.

Webby jumped back to avoid a blow, feet touching solid ground a lot faster than she had expected. Wait… no. She wasn’t on the ground. She looked down, mouth hanging open, to see a shimmering pink platform underneath her feet.

“Cool!”

Lena beamed as Webby jumped again, and another platform caught her. “Not bad, Lena.” Beakley sounded impressed. “Creative, and height gives Webby an advantage.”

Webby launched herself off the platform, aiming a kick at Beakley, who blocked her with one arm. “That was  _ awesome _ !” Webby said happily as she landed. “If you could figure out how to do that from shadows, we’d be unbeatable!”

“Maybe we could go to the junkyard and pick a fight with the Beagle Boys to get some real practice.”

Beakley raised an eyebrow at the suggestion but noticeably didn’t immediately say no. Lena tucked that thought away for another time. “What else do you think you can do?” Webby asked, bouncing. Her entire body jolted mid-bounce, and gasp of shock became a giggle when she realized Lena was lifting her. “Super Webby!”

“Maybe Slightly Above Average Webby for now,” Beakley cut in, looking between the girls. “You’ve already used a lot of magic, and I’d rather you not drop Webby from fifty feet in the air.”

“I’d rather that too,” Lena agreed, gently setting Webby down. “But it’s an option.”

“I bet there’s a lot we could do if we really thought about it,” Webby said excitedly. “Oh, what about illusions? Like your faerie dancers?”

“Her what?” Beakley raised an eyebrow. Lena waved a hand; vaguely formed pink magic swirled around her head before several spots of light came to life.

“Webby’s the one who calls them faerie dancers. They’re basically just light manipulated into a visible form, but they’re really calming to watch.”

Anxiety coping. Beakley didn’t question it any further. “They’re very pretty, but how would they help in combat?”

“Well…” Lena snapped her fingers, and the light balls exploded in small flashes. “Imagine that going off right in front of your eyes.”

That was ingenious. Beakley had to give her that. “I’ve been experimenting a bit, there’s a lot I  _ can _ do in theory…”

“But lack of sleep and skipping meals makes it hard to keep your energy up.” They had the food issues more or less under control — Lena still forgot to eat, but not  _ nearly _ as frequently as she had when she’d first come back. There wasn’t much they could do to control her sleep patterns, though. Those were involuntary. “Let’s look more into some natural remedies to help you sleep. If it comes down to it, we can try sleeping pills, but I’d rather avoid drugging you if at all possible.”

“I’m okay with avoiding that,” Lena agreed, stretching. “I weirdly don’t like being drugged.”

“Is there  _ anything  _ that helps you sleep?”

“Nothing I’ve tried so far.” The teen sighed. “Except completely exhausting myself, which I’m told is bad.”

“Yes, yes it is,” Beakley said sternly. “Tea might be a good place to start.”

“That is the single most British solution I’ve ever heard to a problem.”

Beakley raised an eyebrow. “I assume you call me Tea Time for a reason.”

“Touche.”

* * *

“Lena?”

The whisper was loud, but assured. Webby knew Lena was awake. They were sharing a tent; the natural surroundings were not, unfortunately, helping Lena sleep.

“Yeah?”

“You’re really amazing. You know that right?”

Lena rolled to look at Webby, who was watching her with wide, awed eyes. “What? Where’d that come from?”

“I think about it all the time.” Webby shrugged. “But you  _ really _ are. I know you think you aren’t,” she added quickly when she saw the look on Lena’s face. “But you’re just… you hate your magic, and you hate fighting, but you’re still willing to come out and learn how to do both so you can protect people if something—”

“ _ When _ .”

Webby giggled. “ _ When _ something happens. You work so hard every day to be better than you already are. You love all of us even though you don’t always believe we love you. Which we do, by the way.”

A small, sleepy smile pulled at Lena’s lips, and she scooted closer to Webby to hug her tight. “I think I’m starting to come around to the idea,” she murmured into Webby’s hair. Webby snuggled closer, hugging Lena tight. “If nothing else, we’re an  _ awesome _ team.”

“Definitely!” Webby said happily.

“Go to sleep!” Beakley called from the other tent.


	21. Driving Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The teenage milestone of learning how to drive.

Lena was a  _ lot _ of things, and clever was absolutely one of them. She’d hotwired a car once or twice and knew a bit about driving, but passing a test to get a learner’s permit was a different thing entirely, especially considering how much Lena complained about reading the manual. And yet she still managed to pass the test on the first try, something absolutely no one had been expecting. Which left them with a bit of a dilemma. No one trusted Della to teach anyone to drive. Donald hated letting other people drive him around. Scrooge didn’t have the patience for it. Launchpad was… Launchpad.

Which meant there was only one person left.

Lena was staring out the windshield, very aware of Beakley’s presence next to her. Webby was in the backseat, bouncing. “Do you have any experience with driving besides stealing cars?”

“I didn’t just  _ steal _ them. I sold the parts for money so I didn’t have to shoplift.”

Beakley sighed. “Right. Show me how you adjust your mirrors, and we can start with going to the end of the street.”

This car was a  _ lot _ nicer than anything Lena had ever stolen, and definitely had more buttons. It took her a moment to figure out how to work the side mirrors and move them. When  _ was _ the last time she had driven a car? Before she came to Ducksburg — there wasn’t exactly a huge chop shop industry in the town. A lot had changed.  _ She _ had changed.

Webby leaned around the seat to look at Lena, frowning. She’d finished adjusting the mirrors and now she was just staring at the steering wheel.

“Lena? What’s wrong?”

The teen sighed, dropping her forehead against the steering wheel. “I don’t know. Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“What do you mean?”

“What if… if something happens while I’m driving, like…” She waved a hand vaguely, still not looking up and dropping her voice to a mutter, “ya know, flashback, panic attack, or I forgot to eat for three days, whatever. What if I’m in the middle of the road and I just check out?”

Webby frowned and unbuckled so she could scoot forward and rest a hand on Lena’s back. “It’s a possibility,” Beakley said with a slow nod. “And the fact that you’re thinking ahead to it already shows that you’re being responsible. You don’t go from zero to sixty, though. There are signs when you’re having a panic attack or flashback, or if you’re about to blackout. Which, on that note…”

She dug through her bag and found a granola bar, holding it out. Lena smile weakly, sitting up and taking it. “Thanks, Tea Time.”

“Now, while you’re eating, name some of the signs that you’re about to have a panic attack or flashback.” Beakley could think of five off the top of her head, but those were visual cues. Lena knew herself better than anyone.

“Um…” Lena unwrapped the granola bar, taking a bite and thinking. “I start shaking. I can’t really  _ move _ , but I shake. My vision kind of… tunnels out. Sometimes I can’t see, but it builds up to that. Things either get too loud, or my ears start ringing… depends on what triggers it and if it’s a flashback or a panic attack. Or both.” She took another bite. “It gets harder to breathe and I start hyperventilating.”

“Are you aware that these things are happening when they start?”

Lena frowned. “Sorta. I’ve talked myself from a panic attack a couple times. After I shadow-ed out. Oh god what if  _ that _ happens?”

“Don’t talk yourself  _ into _ a panic,” Beakley said gently. “You’ve been working with your magic, haven’t you? When was the last time you lost control like that?”

“It’s been a few months,” Lena admitted, taking another bite. “I think I’ve gotten better with it.”

“Stay confident in that, then. Your own mind is always the worst enemy.”

“No kidding,” Lena mumbled, leaning forward to rest her arms on the steering wall and her chin in her arms. “Okay.” She finished off the granola bar and took a deep breath, turning on the car.

“Make sure all your passengers have their seatbelts on.”

Webby yelped and jumped back, buckling in. Lena giggled, putting the car in drive. “Oh  _ god _ , I have to drive down to the gate. Why does Scrooge need to live at the top of a cliff?”

“He thinks it makes him seem more important.”

“He has his name on like, a million companies, isn’t that important enough?”

“Living on top of mountain solidifies that.”

They got to the bottom of the hill without crashing, waiting for the gate to open. Lena tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, bouncing slightly. She was terrible at sitting still.

“Do you know the speed limit in this area?” Beakley prompted, giving Lena something to focus on.

“Um… thirty.” She had walked passed enough signs. The gate clinked as it finished opening, and she pulled out, turning left. They had agreed to drive as far as Duckburg Mall, if Lena felt comfortable enough.

It was weird to see Lena in the driver’s seat, being  _ responsible _ . Beakley was used to devil-may-care Lena, who could, in one breath, talk Webby into doing something stupid and dangerous, and in the next breath saving Webby from whatever trouble they got in, laughing all the while. Or, on the side of the spectrum, panicking, terrified Lena, who looked oddly small when she was scared. But taking something this seriously was rare.

They stopped at a red light. Webby was bouncing in the backseat, thrilled. This was a huge step for their independence, and for Lena’s freedom. Webby knew she liked being able to escape when she was struggling with something or needed space. Then again, there was always the worry that she just wouldn’t stop driving. But Webby trusted her to come home.

“How’re you feeling?”

“This is a  _ lot _ nicer than the cars I used to steal.”

Beakley sighed. “Lena, please put my mind at ease and assure me you haven’t stolen a car since you moved in.”

“I’ll do you one better, Tea Time. The last time I stole a car was in St. Canard three years ago.”

“Ooooooooooooooooh, former St. Canard criminal,” Webby teased, giggling. “I think we all know a certain terror who flaps in the night and might want a word with you about that.”

“He’ll have to catch me first.” Lena scoffed. “And I live in the same house as his best friend. That’s a threat waiting to happen.”

“Pay attention, Lena,” Beakley reminded her.

“I am, I am. There’s a car about five feet in front of me and one tailing me two feet behind, the light up ahead is going to turn yellow in about twenty seconds and I probably won’t make it, and some poor lady is trying to stop their kid from running across the street to a toy store.

Beakley looked around, surprised. Every single thing Lena had just said was true. They rolled to a stop as the light they were approaching turned yellow, then red. “How did you—”

“Super power.” Lena shrugged. “Being homeless and looking like a teenager for fifteen years teaches you to pay attention. And I have really good spatial awareness. That’s probably magic related.”

She was definitely more comfortable, Beakley thought as the light turned green. Lena hated being out of her comfort zone, but that zone could always be expanded. And Lena’s ease behind the wheel made Beakley feel a bit better, especially considering how nervous she had been before. She was a quick learner.

Beakley made a mental note of that for the next time Lena put up a fuss about learning something new.


	22. Sick Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dewey stays home sick. Lena keeps him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God HELLO I swear I didn't forget this. NaNoWriMo and life in general. But NaNoWriMo is a huge Ducktales fanfic project so.... yay? XD

“I can’t believe you guys are just  _ leaving  _ me.”

“Adventure can’t take a sick day, Dewford!” Huey said, grinning. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring back a souvenir.”

Dewey’s glare was interrupted by a cough. “This is what you get for not putting on your jacket,” Webby sang.

“Oh shut it, Webby.”

“Come on, kids,” Scrooge called. “We’re heading out.”

“Dude, trade with me,” Louie said, tapping away on his phone. “I wouldn’t mind a day of being doted on by Mom. Scrooge wouldn’t notice the difference, and I need a day off.”

“I think he’d notice when Dewey started hacking up a lung,” Lena said. She was was leaning against the couch, arms crossed on the back, chin resting in her hand.

“Are you suuuuuuuuuure you don’t want to come?” Webby asked.

“Nah, someone needs to keep Dewford company. Punch something for me, though.”

“Will do!” Webby ran out of the room, with Huey and Louie behind her. Dewey huffed, watching them go.

“Jerks.”

“Dude, trust me, there’s nothing wrong with just staying home and chilling.” Lena walked over to the entertainment center, grabbing a couple of controllers and going to join Dewey on the couch. “You’ve got it  _ way _ better than they do right now.”

“Yeah, right,” Dewey grumbled as he took the offered controller. “Hanging around the mansion all day, sounds thrilling.”

“I have soup!” Della sang as she walked into the living room. Dewey and Lena looked suspiciously over the back of the couch. “Beakley made it, don’t worry. No adventuring for you today, Lena?”

“No adventuring ever if I can help it.” She loaded up the game, some generic fighting game, and tried to figure out which character she wanted. “I’m good with this life.”

“ _ Why _ ?” Dewey took the soup, giving his mom a small smile. “This is boring. Do you even know how to play this game?”

“I’ve watched you nerds enough to figure it out. Unless you’re scared of being beaten by a girl.”

“Webby could kick my butt any day of the week. That’s definitely not the problem.”

“I think it’s good for you,” Della said. “Breaks are good.”

“Did  _ you _ ever take a break?” Della’s silence spoke volumes. “Thought so.”

“You gotta learn to relax, Blue.” Lena finally settled on a fighter, and waited for Dewey to sip his soup before going for his regular character. They let the game choose the stage for them, and the rapid button mashing began. Lena was better than Dewey had expected, considering he knew she had never played the game. Her hits were almost perfect, her dodges way better than Dewey’s, and she even knew the button combos for special moves.

“Jeez,” Dewey said as he jumped to miss another hit. “I didn’t know watching people play could make you this good.”

“I have a bit of an advantage,” Lena admitted. “I can generally imitate something after seeing it once or twice, and I’m good at remembering things like codes or passwords or combinations if I see someone using them once. I know the combo for Scrooge’s safe in his office.”

“ _ Seriously _ ? What is it?”

“I don’t use my power for evil.” She smirked as she landed one last blow on Dewey’s character, and the game declared her a winner. Della had slipped out at some point, leaving the kids to their game.

“Huey’s kind of like that,” Dewey said, scooping up another spoonful of soup. “Mostly words, though. He can recite that woodchuck book front to back.”

“Oh trust me, I know.” Lena rolled her eyes. They’d all sat through a Huey lecture more than once. “I can memorize spells and facts, but I don’t always know what they mean. Like Magica’s stupid money shark. I knew it would be attracted to the dime, but I didn’t know it would keep growing the way it did. It wasn’t in the book, and  _ she _ conveniently forgot to mention it when she made me get the stupid thing into the bin.”

“So do you know where  _ more _ magic things are?” Dewey asked curiously. “Like, things we could get?”

“Yeah, and no I’m not telling Scrooge. He doesn’t like magic, and I’m not messing with anything Magica thought was useful.”

“Yeah, but if Magica knows where it is, she could use it, right?”

Lena shot him a look. He had a point. “Maybe I’ll talk to Scrooge about it later.”

Dewey sipped his soup, quiet for a moment. “What was it like?”

“Huh?” Lena looked over, tilting her head. “What was what like? Having Magica in my shadow?”

“No, that just sounds terrible. When she… I mean when you were all shadowy and fighting Magica, and she…”

It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was going. “When she killed me.” Dewey hunched up, nodding. Lena’s head fell back on the couch, and she stared at the ceiling, turning the thoughts over in her mind. “You were with Webby, right? You saw it?”

“Yeah.” Dewey’s eyes dropped to his soup. “Sorry, I know it’s kind of…”

“No, it’s cool.” Lena was surprised someone hadn’t  _ already _ asked her. Another one of those topics they all just naturally avoided. “I guess it can’t really be called dying. She… let’s say  _ re-absorbed  _ me into her shadow when Scrooge and I tried to fight back. It didn’t hurt, but it was terrifying. She’d been possessing me since the last time I slept over, so… a few weeks? Until a couple days after you all moved out. I could fight back, kind of, but she was stronger than me.”

Her eyes went distant for a moment, and Dewey immediately felt bad for asking. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

“Don’t be. I’ve been waiting for someone to ask.” She sighed, closing her eyes. “She took my body and shoved me into the shadows where she’d been trapped. So I had my body back for about twenty minutes before she destroyed it.” Dewey grimaced. “She thought I was going to disappear, and I suppose I would have, if Webby hadn’t been so insistent on messing with magic during the money shark thing. She changed my magic, and I think she… gave me a bit of herself at the same time. Just a small spark of life that I accidentally put in her bracelet. It let me survive in Magica’s shadow, and when I was close enough, I connected both pieces.” She shook her head. “Sorry, I’m getting off track. So I put a shadow form together, fought with Magica, and…”

She went silent for so long, Dewey was sure she wasn’t going to answer. “It didn’t  _ hurt _ ,” she finally continued after a moment. “Shadows don’t feel pain. But it felt  _ weird _ . I guess being electrocuted would be the best comparison minus, you know, the pain. I could feel the blast in my stomach, then it spidered out, and then…” She snapped her fingers. “Poof. No more Lena. Except for that little spark of life in Webby’s bracelet. It wasn’t much, but it helped me rebuild my form in the shadow realm. It was months before I could build a form independent of Webby’s shadow and move sort of freely.

“So I guess I never really  _ died _ . It was definitely uncomfortable, but it didn’t  _ hurt _ . Threw me off guard, though. I don’t know how she survived fifteen years as a shadow. I was going nuts after a few  _ weeks _ . But it was better than disappearing completely.”

Dewey stared at his soup, frowning deeply, before setting the bowl aside and crawling out from under his blanket, hugging Lena tight. She looked down, surprised.

“Jeez, Blue. Didn’t know you were sentimental.”

She wrapped an arm around him even as she spoke. “You saved me, too,” he said quietly. “Thank you.”

“Hey, don’t mention it.” She ruffled his feathers, smiling faintly. “Come on, don’t go and get all mushy on me.”

Dewey chuckled, pulling away and wiping his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t want to get you sick.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t get sick. Benefits of having a body that’s only partially connected to the physical world, I guess.” She gave him a small nudge. “Come on, finish your soup so we can play another game.”

“All right, all right…” 

Maybe, Dewey thought as he flopped back against his pillow, a sick day every now and again wasn’t  _ too  _ bad.

* * *

The adventure gang returned a little after dark, everyone whooping and hollering after their latest grab. “Shush, all of you,” Beakley scolded them at once. They immediately shut their mouths.

“Why?” Webby finally dared to ask. Beakley pointed to the downstairs rec room, and of course the kids had to go see.

Dewey and Lena were lying on opposite ends of the couch, the video game they’d been playing long forgotten, since they were both asleep. Webby bit her fist to keep a squeal down, and Louie snapped a picture. He was sure Dewey and Lena would want to see this later.


	23. Silent Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby's knows almost all of Lena's nightmares. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to the angst-loving crew over on my Weblena Discord server. This is all their fault

Lena had nightmares. Bad nightmares. Webby had classified them all, and knew most of them at this point, nearly eight months after her return.

Most. There was still one type she didn’t know, one nightmare Lena had that she would never talk about. She would wake up with a gasp, then curl into herself and stared at a wall until she fell back to sleep. She couldn’t be touched. She wouldn’t respond to anything anyone said. She woke up a few hours later and was fine again, although she wouldn’t talk about the dream. Webby never pushed it. She was okay. That was all that mattered.

“...Lena?"

Webby reached out to try and touch Lena’s shoulder; she shuddered, pulling away, pressing further into the corner of the couch. Webby sighed, looking back at her grandmother. Beakley was watching them both with a sad gaze.

Lena did her best to avoid the adventures. She didn’t like the idea of danger or willingly putting herself in it. But sometimes, the adventures followed them home. Today it had been a malevolent spirit possessing Louie. No one had noticed, of course, because Louie usually lounged and played on his phone and didn’t talk for most of the ride back unless there was a lot of gold involved. This hadn’t been one of those adventures.

The spirit, of course, had been immediately attracted to Lena and all the powers she could offer. It had hitched a ride on Louie to get out of its prison, but Lena had the potential to be a permanent body. A permanent, magically talented body.

Louie, once free, had realized there was lost time and had immediately gone to tell Scrooge, but it was already too late. Lena had thrown Beakley through a (first-floor) window when she tried to stop her, and ruined Della’s metal leg in her attempts to escape. The remains of the leg were being thrown into Dewey’s face when Webby had come running downstairs and had immediately tackled Lena, trying to keep her down.

She had so easily ripped through them, Webby thought now, watching Lena. It was a little scary to think about how powerful she was. The only thing stopping her from using that full power was… what? Morals? Fear?

Della was trying not to grimace as she walked in on a new leg (Scrooge had insisted on making spares. She was glad for that now). She had never imagined what it would be like to have the metal limb ripped off in such a way. But she was trying very hard not to show the pain, knowing Lena was already upset. There was no reason to feed her guilt.

  
“Hey kid.” She put on a smile, leaning against the back of the couch and crossing her arms. “How ya doing?”

Lena didn’t answer. Della look at Webby, questions in her eyes. Questions Webby couldn’t answer. She shook her head, pulling her legs up to her chest.

Throwing Webby off had been easy, of course. Webby had been surprised by the force, then stunned when she’d hit the wall. Huey had done the only sensible thing — grabbed a foam dart gun and fired it at Lena, hoping to at least distract her so Scrooge — the only currently upright and charging down the stairs with Louie behind him — could take her down. He only fired one shot before the gun was ripped from his hands and smashed into his head. She ducked a swing from Scrooge’s cane and was readying an attack, but Louie dove forward, taking her legs out from under her.

Webby had recovered by that time, ducking when Lena threw Louie (she’d apologize later for not catching him), and was rearing back to punch when Lena caught her once more, lifting her into the air and throwing her into the ceiling. The fall wouldn’t have killed Webby, but it certainly would have put her down for a few weeks if Della hadn’t managed to get under her and at least cushion her fall.

Understandably, Beakley didn’t feel up to cooking. She was still picking glass out of her feathers. The doorbell rang, heralding the arrival of the pizza everyone else had voted on. Donald, the only one who had avoided the chaos and was still walking without too many issues, went to get the door and pay the delivery man. 

“C’mon.” Della tapped Webby’s head, then reached to do the same to Lena, but she immediately jerked away. Della sighed. “Let’s get some food before the boys inhale it all.”

Webby looked at Lena, then at Della, shaking her head. Della, thankfully, got the message. “I’ll grab some for you.” She tried not to wince as she put weight on her leg and stiffly walked out.

In the end, none of them really knew how Lena managed to take back control. Scrooge was the only one still upright, and no one wanted to ask him. All they had seen was a bright pink light, and vaguely heard an unfamiliar scream. And when the light had faded, Lena was in Scrooge’s arms, struggling to stay conscious.

Della came back in with some pizza, but Lena still hadn’t moved. “Hey, c’mon kid, it’s okay. Really. No one’s mad.”

It was true, although Lena probably didn’t need to see the damage the spirit had done with her body. The boys were all battered and bruised, and Beakley was still trying to bandage herself up, with some help from Scrooge, while Donald boarded up the broken window. Webby tried to reach again, and once again, Lena cringed away.

“Lena,  _ please _ .” Webby tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. “It’s okay. No one’s hurt—”

The first noise Lena made in two hours was a humorless, twisted laughed. “Yeah.” Her voice was raspy. “No one’s hurt. Except, you know, Beakley who went through a window. Or Huey or Dewey, ya know, after I tried to smash their heads in.”

“That wasn’t you—”

“I’m sure you weren’t at all hurt when I threw you into a wall, and ripping Della’s leg off? No big deal, right?”

“It wasn’t  _ you _ , though,” Webby tried to insist.

“Does it matter? It was my body and my powers.”

“But we know  _ you _ would never do anything like that.”

“Do you?” That brought Webby up short. “Do you  _ really _ know that I’m not just going to turn on you one day and rip you all to pieces? I  _ can _ , clearly. What’s stopping me?”

“If you were ever going to hurt us of your own free will, you wouldn’t be asking the question,” Della said. “And we trust you.”

“ _ Fine _ , so today it wasn’t my fault!” Lena flew up, whirling to glare at both of them. There were tears in her eyes. “What about tomorrow? Or the next day? Or in a year? What happens if one day I just turn into Magica or something?”

“That’s not—”

“Not what? Not going to happen? You don’t know that! But fine, say I don’t turn into her, say she just possesses me  _ again _ or something — then what? What are you going to do? How are you going to stop me?”

Even Della was at a loss for words. Lena took a step forward, then bolted, dodging Della trying to grab her and running around Scrooge, who had come to find out what the yelling was about. She was out the front door before Webby had even finished standing.

“What was that?” Scrooge asked, looking at Della and Webby.

“She’s… having a hard time with the whole possession thing, I think.” Della sighed. “How did you get that thing out of her, anyways?”

Scrooge shook his head. “I didn’t. Lena took back control on her own. She started glowing pink for a minute, then she turned blue, then… well, then she collapsed.”

“So she… took back control on her own?” Della frowned. “Then why is she so upset?”

“She  _ did _ toss everyone around a bit before she managed to get free. I’m sure she’s blamin’ herself.”

Webby stared at the floor for a moment before walking passed Della and Scrooge, going for the front door. She had only the vaguest suspicion about where Lena would go, but it would be a place to start.

* * *

The sun was setting as Webby stepped onto the stage and carefully pressed her foot down against the trap door, and it popped open. There was a faint purple light at the bottom of the stairs. Webby took that as a good sign and started down.

She was careful; she knew Lena had broken the light and left the glass scattered on the floor. But a blanket had been tossed over the glass when she reached the small room, marking where the glass was. Lena was sitting on the bed, pressed into the corner as tight as she could manage, her face buried in her knees, arms around her legs.

“This is what you dream about,” Webby said quietly. “Isn’t it?” Lena just flinched slightly. “On those nights when you wake up and you just stare at the wall until you fall back to sleep. You dream about hurting us.”

“I dream about killing you.” Her voice was muffled, but Webby could tell she had been crying. “Sometimes it’s because Magica’s controlling me, sometimes it’s just because I’m evil. But it’s always the same ending. I just stand there looking at your dead bodies until I wake up.”

“Scrooge said you took back control on your own.”

Another twisted, humorless laugh. “Yeah, after my useless fucking magic finally kicked into self defense and burned the spirit up.”

“But you stopped it before you could kill us,” Webby said. “I know your magic scares you, and I know you wish sometimes that you didn’t have it, and that you don’t trust yourself, but  _ I _ trust you. I’ve  _ always _ trusted you.” She carefully crossed the room, stepping around the blanket, and sat on the edge of Lena’s bed. “Please stop shutting me out.” Her voice trembled. “We don’t blame you. Louie is mad at himself for accidentally bringing the thing home, but it’s not his fault, either. Everyone is going to live. And it wasn’t you. I know you would never hurt us on purpose.”

“How?”

Webby took a deep breath. “Because you never have. Every time you could have hurt me, you saved me. We beat the Beagle Boys together. You saved Granny when the train car fell on her. You stopped the money shark. You fought Magica off even after she possessed you and used your body to get into the mansion. You stole her shadow and fought her and saved me and Dewey. And you stayed with me for months. Because you care, and you’ve always cared, even when you weren’t supposed to, and you’ve never hurt me, even when you could.” She reached out, resting her hand on Lena’s knee. This time she didn’t pull away. “Please come home. Everyone is worried about you.”

Lena wiped her eyes, finally looking up. “I don’t want to hurt you. Any of you.”

“I know. We all know. It’s okay.” Webby tugged her Lena closer, wrapping her in a hug. It took a moment, but Lena finally unwound, clinging to Webby and burying her face in her shoulder.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “It’s okay.”


	24. Darkest Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all of Lena's secrets are actually dark and terrible.

Lena had insomnia.

It was hardly a secret. Beakley had an entire stock of tea dedicated to helping her sleep. And they resorted to sleeping pills when it was too bad.

But sometimes she just wandered around the mansion, entertained herself, watched whatever she wanted on TV. And sometimes…

Sometimes…

Beakley frowned when she stepped into the dining room. The kitchen light was on, and there were noises, like someone was… cooking? No. She took a deep breath. Baking.

_ What in the world _ …

She walked silently to the kitchen door, peeking in. And there, to her utter shock, was Lena, checking the oven. The counters were covered in flour and sugar and other ingredients.

“Lena?”

The teen jumped, whirling around. “Tea Time! Um… what’s up?”

“I believe that’s my line.” Beakley looked around. “What are you doing?”

“...Sleep baking?” Beakley raised an eyebrow, and Lena sighed. “I wanted cookies.”

“We  _ have _ cookies.”

“I know but I wanted…” Lena waved a hand. “So, I was in this foster home once when the police picked me up. And they weren’t actually horrible. I could’ve stayed with them if I really wanted, but Aunt Magica was… fussy. Anyways, the mom had this really amazing cookie recipe and I haven’t had access to a kitchen in forever, so…” Her voice drifted off when she saw Beakley trying not to smirk. She blushed. “It’s not like — I mean — oh stop smiling!”

“Lena,” Beakley said patiently. “If you want to bake, you don’t have to do it at three a.m. when everyone else is sleeping. I’m sure the kids would be delighted to help you. Or at least enjoy your cookies.”

“They’d make fun of me.” Lena almost sounded defeated. “It’s lame.”

“It’s not exactly the kind of hobby I would have expected from you,” Beakley admitted. “But there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Lena shrugged, suddenly looking very small and self-conscious. Beakley had to keep reminding herself that this was  _ not _ the same teenager who had shamelessly led Huey and Webby into abandoned and tunnels and scoffed at Beakley when she tried to take charge. Not that Lena wasn’t still shameless in many ways — but she had vulnerable sides and she was letting them show.

“Well, if you’re baking cookies you have to share. I’ll make some tea.”

Lena’s shoulders hunched up, but she didn’t argue. “Cookies will be done in a few.”

“Excellent.”

Beakley went through her tea collection, finding some of the flavors she didn’t Lena didn’t completely object to, and put the water on. “Are there any other secret abilities you’re hiding?” she asked, looking back at Lena.

“Not really.” Lena busied herself with staring at the cookies,  not meeting Beakley’s gaze. “I only ever really learned how to make cookies. It’s a lot like magic.”

“Oh?” Beakley tilted her head. “How so?”

“Well, some spells require ingredients. Or potions. I’ve made a few of those. If you don’t get it just right, you might blow something up. It’s a recipe. Everything has a recipe. If you follow it and do everything, right, you can make…”

The timer dinged, and Lena peeked into the oven, then grabbed an oven mitt and pulled out the cookie sheet. The cookies were perfectly round and a beautiful golden brown. “Cookies.” She shrugged, smiling and setting the pan down on the stove.

“I never thought about it like that,” Beakley said, impressed.

“Sometimes I have deep thoughts.”

Beakley had no doubt about that. She knew there was plenty locked up in Lena’s head. The problem was getting her to open up.

Tea and cookies might be a good start, she thought as she poured the tea and brought two mugs to the table, waiting for Lena to finish cleaning up and join her.

“So I can’t get you to eat dinner, but you’ll get up at three a.m. to make cookies?” She couldn’t help the dry tone of her question. Lena smirked.

“I never said I was hungry.” Lena shrugged. “I just wanted cookies.”

“So it’s not a matter of being hungry or not?”

Lena groaned. “Come on Tea Time, don’t turn late-night cookies into analyzing my messed up physiology.” 

“You’re under my care now, Lena. It’s my responsibility to make sure you’re taking care of yourself and getting enough nutrition.”

Lena raised an eyebrow. “Under your care?”

“Mhmm. Just like everyone else in this house. Imagine what would happen if they were all left to themselves?”

There was no stopping the flashback of the foyer full of pizza boxes and Scrooge rolling around on the floor with a racoon. Lena bit her tongue to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah, it would be a mess,” she agreed, gathering the cookies on a plate and going to sit with Beakley. She grabbed one cookie, taking a bite, and smiled, satisfied. Not as good as she remembered, but still pretty good. Beakley took a cookie too, looking surprised when she took a bite of her own cookie.

“These are good.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

Beakley gave the teen an indulgent smile. “You’re full of secrets and surprises. I can’t help it if you catch me off guard every now and again.”

“I guess I should just give myself credit for being able to surprise the former spy.”

They snacked in silence for a few minutes, sipping the tea. It was comfortable, Lena thought. Comfortable with Tea Time. That felt so weird.

“You mentioned a foster home?”

Lena should have guessed that she would ask about that. “Yeah, ya know… homeless teenager gets picked up for shoplifting, no record of her existence, there are only so many things you can do. The ‘nice’ ones called social workers, but no one realizes how terrible foster homes really are. Or they don’t care.”

There was no visible change in Beakley’s expression or posture, but Lena could feel a sudden tension in the air. “And the police who weren’t as nice?” she asked calmly. Lena shrugged.

“Juvie or juvie disguised as boarding school. It was a warm bed and a meal three times a day, can’t really blame me if I indulged a little.”

_ Indulged _ . Getting arrested was an  _ indulgence  _ for Lena. The more Beakley learned about Lena’s past, the more she understood the stubborn, sometimes petulant teenager.

“It’s not a big deal,” Lena said, as if she could hear what Beakley was thinking. Maybe she was used to getting these reactions. Beakley wondered who else she had talked to about this. “I’ve had access to Magica’s powers for years, I could take care of myself and get away from a place if I needed a quick escape.”

_ But you never should have needed it _ .

There were still quite a few cookies left when Lena started yawning,  _ finally _ tired. It was nearly five a.m. “If you go to bed now, you might be able to rest for a few hours before Webby drags you out of bed,” Beakley said wryly. Lena laughed.

“Maybe. Thanks for the company, Colonel Crumpet.”

“Any time, Lena. Sleep well.”

Lena laughed humorlessly. “Let’s not get crazy here.”

* * *

“Ooooooooooooh, Granny made cookies!” Webby said happily, jumping halfway onto the counter to get the plate and drag it forward.

“Nice.”

“Sweet.”

“Dibs!”

“I don’t think you need to call dibs,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “There’s plenty.”

She hadn’t realized she had made so many. Colonel Crumpet could take credit if it meant keeping her secret under wraps.

“Do these taste different?” Dewey asked, tilting his head. The others each took a bite of their own cookie, frowning.

“I think they taste better,” Louie declared, and the others nodded.

“Must be a new recipe.” Webby grabbed a couple more, handing one to Lena. “C’mon, Granny always makes the best — hey, you okay?”

Lena ducked her head, struggling not to blush as she grabbed the offered cookie. “Yeah. I’m fine.”


	25. Not-So-Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #eattherich

Lena didn’t ask for much.

It was the first thing Scrooge noticed about her, and it wasn’t much of a surprise. She was used to going with little to nothing. She needed a real phone, but chose a secondhand one from the pile of discarded phones that had been abandoned by their former owners over the years simply for being slightly out of date. When she wanted a laptop, she did the same thing — claiming an older but still perfectly useable laptop and bullying Huey into wiping it clean so she could customize it for herself.

Scrooge thought it was great. The triplets had taken far too easily to the rich life, especially Louie. Lena stayed humble, however, choosing used over new and never asking for more than she absolutely needed. It was admirable, especially for a teenager. Sometimes he wondered if it was because she was worried about being a bother. He had also seen the way she was about food, which he had also assumed was due to her former homelessness. Not that Scrooge supported her not eating (Beakley had already raised her concerns and was trying to take care of it), but he was surprised by how conservative she was. It was refreshing compared to a certain set of triplets.

* * *

“Come on, Uncle Scrooge!” Louie complained, pouting. Lena looked up from her cereal, rolling her eyes. She wouldn’t deny for a minute that Louie’s questions were a  _ little  _ over the top sometimes, and asking to borrow a limo was a bit… much. But Scrooge did also have  _ three _ limos. She assumed it was a family thing.

“I told ye, lad, ye don’t need a limo to go to the movies.”

“But it would be so much fun!”

“It’s a waste. Use yer legs and walk.”

“Why do you even  _ own _ three limos if you never use them?”

“I think you could’ve ended that question at why do you own three limos,” Lena muttered, finishing the last of her cereal. They were too busy arguing to hear her.

“Ye don’t need to ride around showing off.” Scrooge jabbed his fork in Louie’s direction. “You want to go to the movies, then walk. End of story.”

Louie huffed, jumping out of his chair and storming out of the dining room and leaving Lena alone with the old duck. Scrooge shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Honestly, I’ll never understand that boy. When I was his age, I knew how to work for my money.”

“When you were his age it was like the seventeen-hundreds,” Lena said, pushing her bowl away. She was really not hungry anymore.

“Oi,” Scrooge grumbled, giving her a Look. He was used to the old man jokes, but he had to at least pretend to be insulted.

“What? I’m just saying, when you were his age it was actually possible to make a living as a shoe-shine boy. You wouldn’t get nearly that lucky today.”

She stood, abandoning her cereal and making her way out of the dining room. “Hang on a second, lass,” Scrooge said, standing to look at her. “I worked for my money.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know the story. Poor boy gets his first dime and is inspired to work and adventure his way around the world, hoarding all his gold and riches and turning into a curmudgeon,” Lena recited. “And then traps a witch in that dime, who creates a teenage shadow and leaves her homeless for fifteen years while she tries to get from Italy to America with zero money no matter how many shoes she shines.”

“Did you actually—”   


“Of course I didn’t actually try to shine shoes, but you get the point. Actually saving money is almost impossible, never mind doing all the traveling and adventuring you’ve managed to do in like, four-hundred years. Like I said — you got lucky. You’d be screwed if you had to start over today. People all over the world would kill to have like one-one-millionth of what you have just to make due. Would you tell them all that they just have to ‘work hard’ to get as rich as you are?”

Scrooge blinked, gaping at Lena for a moment. He would be entirely honest — he had never thought about it. The implication he had  _ gotten lucky _ rubbed him the wrong way, however. He wasn’t  _ Gladstone _ .

“Just because I was born in a different time doesn’t mean I was  _ lucky _ ,” he informed Lena. 

“No, but you’re lucky  _ now _ , and you don’t even realize it. You could fund like, ten dozen shelters all over the country with your money but you keep it all in a show-offy bin. You know, I stole a credit card from you months ago and set it up for monthly donations to the Duckburg Homeless Shelter and even your  _ vultures _ haven’t noticed. A thousand-dollar donation, and no one has noticed! That’s how much money you have! You could do some real good in the world besides trapping evil witches in dimes. But you think everyone can just  _ work hard _ and it’ll work out for them the way it did you. The twenty-first century doesn’t work that way, though. And you would know that if you ever looked out a window once in a while. I’m not saying Louie isn’t insane, but it wouldn’t kill you to get a bit of a reality check, though.”

She turned and made her way out, leaving a stunned Scrooge behind her.

* * *

Webby looked up from her book as Lena climbed into the loft and dropped into her bed, sighing.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just told Scrooge to take his money and fuck off because capitalism sucks.”

Webby blinked a few times, leaning over to look at Lena in the bunk below. “Why?”

“Because I hate having nice things.” Lena rolled to look up at Webby. “He was doing his whole ‘hard work’ shpeal, and I just kind of snapped. He doesn’t know what it’s like to be poor  _ today _ .”

“Or homeless?” Webby guessed. Lena was blunt, but her former living situation good be a touchy topic sometimes.

“Yeah. Listening to him just grates on me sometimes. Like, everyone who doesn’t work hard deserves to be poor or something.”

“I don’t think he means it like that,” Webby said, jumping down to sit with Lena. “He’s just a little tone deaf sometimes.”

Lena huffed, sighing and closing her eyes. “Just a little.”

Webby poked her side. “It’s not like you’re the first person to tell him he has too much money. Donald says it all the time. I think Scrooge kind of respects him for it.”

“Donald lives on a  _ boat _ .”

“In Scrooge’s pool. His life could be a  _ lot  _ worse.” Webby paused. “I mean, it  _ is _ a lot worse, but that doesn’t have anything to do with money.” Lena snorted, and Webby bit down a giggle. “Scrooge respects people who are willing to stand up to him. He may not always  _ like  _ it, because he hates being told he’s wrong about something, but anyone who’s willing to stand up to him like that has a lot of guts, you know?”

“Or just hates nice things.”

“He’s not going to throw you out because you told him he has too much money.”

“We’ll see.”

* * *

Scrooge, of course, did  _ not _ kick Lena out. The subject fell to the wayside for about a month, until Scrooge arrived home from the office one day and dropped a folder on Lena’s head (in his defense, she had her headphones on and it was impossible to get her attention).

“Hey!” She yanked her headphones off, looking up and frowning. “What was that for?”

“My accountants hate you now,” he said simply before walking away. Lena opened the folder and found receipts for reoccuring donations to more shelters and charities than Lena could even begin to count — at least three pages long. She skimmed the list, then looked at the numbers, blinking a few times.

“Ooooooooooooookay, then.”

She was perfectly okay with the vultures hating her if this was the result.


	26. Makeover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Webby wants to change her look. Lena may not be the perfect person to help, but she's the one Webby wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Older Webby outfit based on this: https://itsdetectiveliz.tumblr.com/post/187163835199/game-context-each-person-takes-turns-taking-a
> 
> Older Lena outfit based on Chloe from Life Is Strange: http://pre00.deviantart.net/74b9/th/pre/i/2015/318/f/1/chloe_price_episode_1_5__life_is_strange_by_xkammyx-d945wyo.png

Almost two years after escaping the Shadow Realm, Lena had finally decided she was ready for her own room. Which didn’t mean she and Webby suddenly stopped spending most of their days together — if they couldn’t be found, they were either in Webby’s room, or Lena’s room.

“Hey Webs.” Lena bounced up into the loft to find the girl sitting on her floor, looking at her clothes. “Aaaaaare you okay?”

“Do you think my clothes are too childish?”

“Wha?” Lena raised an eyebrow. “I… think your clothes are fine? Did one of the boys say something. Was it Louie?”

“No, no, nobody said anything,” Webby said quickly. “I just… everything is changing. Every _ one _ is changing. The boys have their own rooms now,  _ you _ moved out—”

“I’m across the hall, not like I left the house.”

“But I’m still up here in the same thing I’ve been wearing since I was like, nine.”

Lena knelt with Webby, tilting her head. “So you wanna change things up? We can dye your hair again. Beakley can’t keep us grounded  _ forever _ .”

“She’ll take that challenge.” Webby giggled, looking down at her clothes. “I dunno. I think I need something bigger. Really shake things up.”

“Dye your whole body?”

“Lena!”

The teen gave her a conspiratorial grin. “How about a shopping trip? Get the card from Della and we can go wild.”

Webby thought it for a moment, tilting her head. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to look. You think Della will wanna come with us?”

“Absolutely not,” Lena said, pushing herself up. “I love her, I really do, but she is  _ terrible _ to shop with. Broomstick in ten?”

“Sounds good!” Webby jumped, up energized now. Lena jumped down the hatch to get her car keys and find Della.

_ Broomstick _ was the lovingly named silver car Scrooge had begifted to Lena when she had passed her driving test. It was a simple car, and with a bumper full of stickers; it was absolutely what Lena wanted. 

“Honestly, Della, I think it’s just a me and Webby day, ya know?”

Webby was already sitting on the hood of the car, waiting, when Lena slipped into the carport. “Aaaawww, really?” Della sounded disappointed. “Is this just because I argued with Louie for two hours over the hoodie he wanted?”

“Noooooo, not all, and you were right, of course, a hoodie like that was far too inappropriate for a thirteen year old. We just need a best friend day, I think. Ya know, I moved out, it’s been hard on both of us.”

Della huffed, disappointed. “Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Don’t go too crazy.”

“When have I  _ ever _ gone crazy?”

Webby didn’t need to see the disbelieving look on Della’s face. She muffled her giggles until the door shut. “Uuuuuuugh.” Lena sighed as she made her way to the car.

“Two hours over a hoodie?”

“It said something really stupid about money and girls.”

“Of course it did.” Webby rolled her eyes, jumping off the car. “Are  _ all  _ boys like that, or is just annoying because he’s like my brother?”

“Yes.”

Webby had to be quiet as they pulled out and went down the loooooooong driveway. Lena was mostly confident in her driving, but she  _ hated _ the driveway, and no noise was allowed until they were outside the gate.

“Okay,” she finally said with relief. “Start the music. Any thoughts on clothes?”

Webby hit play on Lena’s phone. She had a playlist for driving, of course. “Um… I dunno, Granny’s always bought my clothes. Where do you shop?”

Lena laughed. “Webby, trust me, we do  _ not _ shop at the same stores.”

Webby raised an eyebrow, looking Lena over. She had traded in her striped sweater for a black short sleeved jacket over a white t-shirt, proudly displaying her  _ Just Breathe _ pendant and the moonstone ring that hung on the same indestructible cord (she had a habit of pulling on it when she got too stressed). She had also figured out how to change her hair color with magic, so the pink strip tended to change colors. She hadn’t bothered with that today, and it made Webby smile a little. The pink was special.

“I’m sure I could find something at wannabe grunge outlet,” she teased. Lena laughed.

“Rude.”

They pulled into the mall parking lot, and Webby couldn’t resist taking Lena’s hand. They were still… slowly working on what they were. But it was definitely part of the reason Lena had moved out. There was  _ something _ . It was just a matter of  _ what _ .

There was some kind of kids’ thing going on — screams echoed all around them when they walked into the mall. Lena froze for a moment, shuddering, and Webby nudged her, squeezing her hand. “Do you want to leave?” Loud noises still put Lena on edge. They weren’t sure if that would ever go away.

“No. I’m good.” She closed her eyes, fingers closing around her pendant and ring for a moment before she took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Let’s go. Wannabe Grunge Outlet is on the other side of the mall.”

She relaxed a little when they got away from the kids, and Webby smiled, feeling better. She didn’t like it when Lena was stressed out.

Webby had to admit, when they stepped into the store, that it definitely wasn’t for her. “Why are there so many skulls?”

“Angst.”

“...Right.”

She had to look around, but she already knew there was nothing there for her. Lena struck up a conversation with the cashier while playing on her phone and watching Webby wander.

“Ready to concede?” she teased after ten minutes or so. “I got Huey and Dewey to send me a few stores that might be more your speed.”

“Yeeeeeeeeah.” Webby sighed, bouncing back over.

“You’re seriously not going to tell me what you dye your hair with?” The cashier pouted.

“Told you, it’s natural.” Lena waved over her shoulder, and Webby swallowed a giggle. She loved when people tried to talk to Lena about her hair.

“Okay, Nerds R Us,” Lena said as they approached another store. “Have at it, Pink.”

Lena stood out like a sore thumb among the racks of pastel and brightly colored clothes. She was used to that, though, and knew to ignore it. And to ignore the preppy moms who walked by with their preppy kids and judged her. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” she informed one woman coldly. Webby interrupted before the woman could reply.

“Lena, what do you think?”

The teen looked to Webby, who was holding up a navy dress with a belt around the middle. “Not too bad. Need more pink.”

“I’m keeping my bow.”

“That’s not  _ nearly _ enough.” Lena examined the store, then lit up. “Ha, there.” She grabbed a pink zipper-up sweatshirt and held it up. “It matches your bow. You can wear it over the dress.”

“Oooooooooh.” Webby’s eyes lit up as she grabbed the sweatshirt. “I’m gonna try them on!”

Lena was pretty proud of herself. She had no eye for color (hence the black and white, which would match whatever color she decided her hair should be), but she thought the sweatshirt would be a nice fit. It was snug, it fit over the dress, and it wouldn’t get in the way during adventures.

“Nice,” she said when Webby came out to model for her. “Hang on, let me…” She took a picture and sent it to the triplets, Della, Violet, and Beakley for good measure. “What do you think?”

Webby checked herself out in the mirror, beaming. “I think it looks good. It feels right.”

Lena’s phone buzzed a couple of times.

 

_ The Green One: I approve of the sweatshirt _

_ Bird Nerd: It’s a good look on her _

_ Mom Duck: Aaaaawwwww, cute! _

_ Colonel Crumpet: No hair dye _

 

“Round of approval from friends and family. Tea Time still says no hair dye.”

Webby sighed heavily. “Someday, maybe. But I think I like this.”

“Get changed and let’s get buying, then.”

It was common knowledge that Scrooge McDuck’s family stole his credit cards and went shopping with them. That didn’t stop Lena from getting a very strange look as she handed the card over while Webby dropped a bunch of dresses and four pink sweatshirts. But he ran the card, and the sale was approved. Even if someone  _ did _ steal a credit card from Scrooge, it was entirely likely he would never notice. Still, he made sure Lena signed the receipt and he tucked away, no doubt to check it later.

“Donald got stopped once for trying to use Scrooge’s credit card.” Webby giggled as they left the store. “Della talked him into using it to buy a few boat parts, and the store called the police.”

“It  _ would _ be Donald who gets in trouble for it, huh?” Lena said thoughtfully. “I swear his bad luck is all natural. I’ve checked for magic four or five times.”

“Gladstone took all the luck.”

Lena rolled her eyes. “There is  _ definitely _ something wrong with him. Bending reality so everything works out for you every time has consequences. I’m amazed there are no disasters happening constantly around him.”

“Maybe you could take some of his luck and give it to Donald,” Webby joked, taking Lena’s hand again. Lena frowned.

“Sounds too much like something Magica would do. Although she’d keep it for herself.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess it does.” It had been over a year since their last encounter with Magica. Webby knew it still haunted Lena — the nightmares had decreased drastically over time, but they never completely went away. Webby kept the bunk beds in her loft; she woke up two or three times a week to find Lena sleeping in the bottom bed.

“Maybe we can push him out a window.”

“Lena!”

“What?” The teen put on an innocent look. “I’m sure the world would rearrange itself to make sure he doesn’t get hurt or die.”

Webby shook her head, trying not to laugh. It would just encourage Lena.

* * *

“Ta-da!”

Webby spun into Lena’s room, showing off her new outfit. “Pink, I was there when you bought it. Shouldn’t you show someone else?”

“I wanted you to see first!” Webby grinned, bouncing over and flopping down on her bed. Lena, who was lying on her stomach, closed her journal, setting it aside.

“I already told you I thought it looks great.”

“Is still looks great, right?”

“Yeah, nothing’s changed between here and the mall, don’t worry.”

Webby rolled until she was almost on top of Lena. “You know what I mean. Sometimes something looks good in the store but then you get home and it’s terrible.”

“Nothing terrible here, don’t worry.”

“Good.” Webby closed her eyes.

“You comfortable?”

“Of course. You’re always comfy.” Webby stretched her arms over her head. Lena twisted to look at her, then just tucked her arms in front of her and rested her head in them.

“You’re so weird.”

“And yet you’re still here.”

“Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”


	27. The Past, The Present

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beakley finally gives Lena the answer to a long-standing question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, sorry it's been so long. My oneshot series are basically subject to update whenever I have an idea, but... yikes.
> 
>  
> 
> This is a shorter chapter, yes, but there's a lot packed into it. And on that note-
> 
> ***WARNING***: Talk of child abuse

“Can’t sleep?”

Lena looked up from her mug to see Beakley standing in the kitchen door. She shrugged. “Weirdly, tea  _ doesn’t _ solve all problems.”

“Hmn. That just sounds wrong.”

The housemaid made her way into the kitchen, heating some water for her own tea. Lena played absentmindedly with the spoon in her tea, stirring it. “What about you?” she asked finally. Usually her nighttime company was Della, or sometimes Scrooge.

“Like most, I’m not immune to the occasional bout of insomnia.”

“Huh. Colonel Crumpet has a weakness. Who woulda thought.”

Beakley smiled wryly. “I’ve never claimed to be invulnerable.”

Lena looked back at her mug, silent until the tea kettle started whistling. “Hey… Mrs. Beakley?”

That was always a sign that something serious was about to follow. Beakley slowly poured the water into her mug, preparing the warm beverage before saying, “Yes, Lena?”

“I um…” Lena struggled for a moment, trying to find the words for the question. “You told me you know what an abused kid looks like.”

The silent question hung in the air between them —  _ how _ ? Beakley looked at her mug, then back at Lena. “Why don’t we move somewhere more comfortable?”

They settled down in the den, Lena curling up in a corner, watching Beakley uncertainly. The woman’s expression hadn’t so much as twitched, and yet something in the air felt… different. Like the very energy of the room had changed.

“Webby’s told you about my last job, I assume.”

“Yeah. Superspy turned housemaid. Isn’t that a bit of a demotion?”

Beakley chuckled. “I was happy to retire, frankly. Webby only knows the exciting stories.” Translation: don’t tell Webby about any of this. “There was a case… the details are classified of course and I wasn’t on it, but the field agents came back with a little boy — his parents had been part of the… well, espionage ring we were trying to break up. He was about twelve or thirteen, even he didn’t know, but they were already using him for certain parts of their… let’s call it a business.”

Her tone was bitter. Lena rightly kept her mouth shut. “We didn’t know what to do with him. We couldn’t put him in the foster system, not with what he knew. He needed protection. So… I volunteered to take him in.

“Right from the start, I knew something was wrong. He was always on the defensive, always ready to lash out or protect himself. He even tried to hit me a couple times. He wasn’t trained, of course, but I could tell he had potential to be a real fighter.” She chuckled. “He was a good boy. He just… needed guidance. He was all attitude and sarcasm, but underneath that, he was a scared child whose parents had taken advantage of him. He flinched when I moved a certain way, or if I raised my voice. One night I found him hiding in his closet because he dreamt some associates of his parents were coming to get him. That was when I started teaching him how to fight. He felt better when he knew how to protect to himself. He was a child.” She whispered that more to herself than to Lena. “All he needed was a good environment and someone who loved him.”

She fell silent, staring at her tea mug. “So what happened to him?” Lena finally dared to ask.

“Oh, he grew up, as children do. Wanted to become an agent like me.” Beakley’s expression softened into a gentle smile. “Met a woman during his first week of training. They had a child together.”

Lena blinked a few times, the pieces only just now clicking. “Webby?”

Beakley nodded. “He never forgot what he went through as a child. He swore his daughter would have a better life. I’ve done my best to keep that promise in their place.”

Heavy silence fell. Lena looked to the TV, just to stare at something else for a minute. “So… Webby doesn’t know? About any of this?”

“No. And I would prefer you not tell her.”

“Your secret will die with me, don’t worry.” Lena paused. “Is it too soon to make jokes about my death?”

“I wouldn’t let Webby hear you saying that.”

“Good point.” The teen looked at her now cold tea. “Did… Did he ever get better? Your son, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Beakley admitted. “He had good days and bad days. But he grew up, and he focused all his time on trying to help other people. He took his terrible experiences and used them to try and do good for others. I think that’s something.” She shook her head. “I should have noticed sooner. You’re honestly so much like him, it’s almost scary.”

“Is this why you’re always pushing me about taking better care of myself?”

“I push you because I care about you.” Well  _ that _ was something Lena hadn’t expected. “Half the point of raising children is to make sure they don’t make your mistakes.”

“I’m not one of your kids.”

“As good as,” Beakley countered, and Lena couldn’t argue with that. “And even so, that doesn’t change the point. Della and Scrooge are the same way — they don’t want any of the kids repeating the mistakes they made.”

“I think Della topped the mistakes with her rocket.”

“That is a hard one to beat,” Beakley agreed. 

Lena laughed quietly before sobering up. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“I told you I would.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to.” Lena was used to the adults abruptly shutting up when she walked into the room. That always meant they were talking about her. She’d gotten used to it, eventually.

Beakley sighed. “Good intentions don’t always have the best results. We try to keep things from all of you because you all deserve to have at least a semi-normal childhood.”

“That ship has  _ sailed _ . And probably sunk. Actually, I don’t think that ship even  _ existed _ for me.”

“Likely,” Beakley agreed. “But we try. Secrets tend to blow up in our faces, though.”

“Yeah. Webby told me about the whole thing with Della.”

“That would certainly be one example.”

“Are you ever going to… ya know, tell Webby?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” The woman shook her head. “Perhaps when she’s older. I think she’d understand it better now that she knows you.”

“Does she know anything about her parents?”

“She’s never asked. I’ve told her a little, over the years. I’m not sure if she’s just not interested in knowing or if she can tell I don’t want to talk about it. She’s very perceptive sometimes.”

“She doesn’t want to upset you. She’s good at that.” She knew exactly what to say and when to stop talking. Lena had always been impressed. Beakley smiled, sipping her tea.

“You know, I’m happy she met you.”

“I don’t believe one word of that sentence.”

Beakley chuckled. “I didn’t say I was  _ always _ happy. But you’re good for her. For better or worse, you’ve taught her more about socializing than I ever could.”

“I’m doing my best.”

Lena took a sip of her lukewarm tea, trying to hide a yawn. Like that was possible. “Bed,” Beakley said sternly. Lena sighed.

“ _ Fine _ .” She stood, rolling her her shoulders. She hesitated for a moment, clearly caught between the urge to be sarcastic and the urge to be sincere. “Thanks, Tea Time.”

There was something in her tone, something that said the thanks was for more than telling her the story. It was for the chance. And then for the second chance when they found out the truth about Magica. For taking another broken delinquent and trying to help.

“Of course, Lena. Sleep well.”

“As well as I ever do.” Lena made her way to the kitchen, pouring out the rest of her tea, then headed back up to the loft. 

She paused before climbing into bed, then climbed up the ladder to look at Webby. Her soft, naive little ninja, sleeping peacefully, almost smiling.  “Sleep well, Pink,” she murmured, jumping back down to crawl into her own bed.


End file.
